‘And I still think you are enchanting. Do you know, I have come to the conclusion that sinners often are … more than saints, that is.’

‘I do hope Sophie is not going to be hurt. I am sure she doesn’t know you at all.’

‘I promise to keep her in blissful ignorance.’

‘I suppose you have had lots of adventures … with women?’

‘Right,’ he said.

‘I won’t call them love-affairs. They are not that … just sordid little adventures.’

‘I suppose you could be right again, but the pleasant thing is that while they are happening they don’t seem what you say they are.’

‘You have this modern French outlook.’

‘Oh, it is not modern. It has been like that for centuries. We make a success of living because we know how to set about it. Wisely, we don’t sigh for the unattainable. We take what is offered and learn to live with it without regrets. It is this realism, this acceptance of life as it is which puts us at the peak of civilization. It is why we are such wonderful lovers, so amusing, so charming. It is a matter of experience. Oddly enough the best mistress I ever had—to date—was the one my father chose for me when I was sixteen years old. It’s an old French custom, you know. The Boy is growing up. He will get into mischief so find a charming older woman who will initiate him. It is part of that sensible outlook on life which my countrymen have worked out to perfection.’

‘I really don’t want to listen to your boasting of your prowess,’ I said.

‘Well, let us leave something so obvious unsaid. Let’s talk of other things. Lottie, I am delighted that you are to be my little sister. I hope we shall get to know each other Very well indeed.’

‘I think it hardly likely.’

‘Oh, that’s not very kind.’

‘People who are not kind themselves should not expect kindness in others.’

‘Are you worried about Sophie?’

‘Yes … very.’

‘You have a sweet nature. Have you noticed that she has been less happy since she has known me?’

‘You must know very well what a difference it has made to her. That’s why …’

‘You don’t look deeply enough into life, dear Lottie. Sophie is happy. I made her happy. Isn’t that something to be proud of, to earn Sophie’s gratitude and that of her family? I assure you I intend it to stay like that. Sophie and I will live amicably together with the children we shall have and when we are old and grey people will point to us as the ideal couple.’

‘And in the meantime you will continue with your secret adventures?’

‘That is the key to all successful marriages - as every Frenchman knows.’

‘Does every Frenchwoman know it?’

‘If she is wise, I think she does.’

‘It is not my idea of happiness and I am glad that I am not a Frenchwoman.’

‘There is something very English about you, Lottie.’

‘Of course there is. I am English. I was brought up in England. There is much I like about France but this …profligacy … I … I loathe.’

‘You do not look like a puritan and that is what makes you so fascinating. You are warm …you are passionate. You can’t deceive a connoisseur such as I am. And yet you talk so primly.’

He held me close to him suddenly. I felt quite excited and at the same time I wanted to tear myself away and run back to Madame de Grenoir. I think I must have betrayed something, for he was smiling in a complacent way.

‘Lottie,’ he said, ‘we are going to meet … often. I am going to make you like me … yes, I think I can make you like me quite a lot.’

‘I never shall. I can only feel sorry for poor Sophie. Will this dance never end?’

‘Alas, it ends too soon. But never fear, you and I are going to be good friends.’

I wanted to get away.

‘You look a little put out, dear,’ said Madame de Grenoir. ‘Are you tired?’

‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘I should like to go.’

‘I don’t think you can do that until after midnight. Then perhaps …’

I danced again. I hardly noticed with whom. I was upset. He had reminded me so much of Dickon. Dickon had talked like that. He had never tried to make me like him because he was good; rather he had stressed his weaknesses. How this man had brought it all back!

I was glad when the ball was over. I went to my room and took off my gown. I was sitting in my petticoats brushing my hair when Sophie came in. She was radiant and did not look in the least tired.

She sat on my bed, her skirts billowing round her; she looked young, fresh and … vulnerable.

‘What a lovely ball! What did you think of Charles? Isn’t he wonderful? He says such marvellous things. I never thought there could be anyone quite like him.’

‘He is very good-looking,’ I said.

‘I think he rather liked you.’

‘Oh … I didn’t notice. What made you think that?’

‘It was the way he looked when he was dancing with you.’

‘Oh, did you see us? Weren’t you dancing?’

‘Most of the time, yes. But the second time I was sitting with your mother and a few others. I watched you all the time.’ I felt my face turning pink. ‘What were you talking about?’

‘Oh … I’ve forgotten. Nothing important.’

‘He was watching you all the time.’

‘People usually do when they are talking.’

‘Not so … intently. You know …’

‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. If it were important, I’d remember, wouldn’t I? Sophie, you ought to go to bed. Aren’t you tired?’

‘No. I feel as though I could go on dancing all night.’

‘It would have to be with Charles.’

‘Oh yes, with Charles.’

‘Good night, Sophie. Sleep well.’

I almost pushed her out and she went away to dream of her incomparable Charles whom she did not really know at all.

When she had gone I put on a wrap, for I felt a great urge to talk to Lisette. I wondered if I should tell her what had happened. She was very worldly. She would probably think nothing of it and say that what Sophie did not know could not grieve her.

I went along to her room and knocked gently. There was no answer.

I opened the door quietly and tiptoed in. I went to the edge of her bed and whispered: ‘Lisette. Are you asleep? Wake up. I want to talk.’

My eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom and I saw that Lisette’s bed was empty.

During the days which followed I saw a great deal of Charles de Tourville for whenever possible he contrived to be at my side. I tried to keep up an air of frigid disapproval, for disapprove of him I most certainly did; but I found myself looking for him and being disappointed if he were not there. I could not understand myself but I enjoyed talking to him. I tried to insult him at every turn. I endeavoured to convey to him how much I despised his way of life; but I could not hide from myself the fact that I enjoyed berating him—and he was shrewd enough to know it.

The fact was that I was bewildered. I was too young to realize what was happening. I was not afraid of life, as Sophie was; I was avid for it. I was ready to rush forward and savour it without wondering what the consequences would be. When I understood myself better I realized that my nature was by no means frigid. I wanted experience. Dickon had aroused me when I had been too young to realize that I was being physically stimulated and I had sublimated my feelings for him into a devotion and what I thought of as abiding love. Now Charles de Tourville came along and he reminded me so much of Dickon that I could not help being attracted to him.

I was young and ignorant, and although he was not old in years he was in experience. I think he understood exactly what was happening to me and found it very diverting. Since he was the sort of man who would visit an establishment like that of Madame Rougemont, he was no doubt in search of fresh sensation and a young girl such as I could provide just that. I gathered later that it was not such a coincidence as I had first thought that he should happen to be at Madame Rougemont’s when Lisette and I called there. Up to that time he had been a frequent visitor there and had looked in almost regularly to see if there was anyone who could amuse him for a while.

Naturally the families met often, which meant that he was constantly in the house. The wedding was to take place in three weeks’ time when all the excitement over that of the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette had died down.

In the meantime, as the families were both in Paris, and my father would no doubt take part in some of the ceremonies of the royal marriage, we saw a great deal of each other.

The Tourvilles gave a ball and once more I danced with Charles, and this time I was conscious of Sophie as she watched us. She insisted that Charles seemed to like me very much and when I protested that I thought he had a very poor opinion of me, she assured me that this was not so.

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘he is so much in love with you that he even likes your family.’

And that seemed to please her.

When I saw Lisette next I told her who Charles de Tourville was, and what a shock I had had at the ball.

‘Is it really so?’ she cried; and she started to laugh. But when I talked of him she did not seem very interested.

‘I only hope he doesn’t tell about us,’ I said.

‘How could he? He’d have to explain how he happened to be there.’

‘Lisette,’ I said, ‘when I came to tell you about it when the ball was over, you weren’t in your bed.’

She looked at me steadily and said: ‘Oh …you must have come when I was in one of the attics with the servants watching the guests depart. There is a good view up there.’

And I forgot about that until much later.

It was the day of the Dauphin’s wedding and my parents had gone to Versailles to attend the reception afterwards which was to be held in the Galerie des Glaces. I felt an uneasiness which I could not shake off. My thoughts were filled with Charles de Tourville and his coming marriage to Sophie. I fervently wished I could forget that man and not be so disturbed by his presence. It was not that I liked him … in fact I disliked all that he stood for; but on the other hand when he was not present, it seemed dull; and if he were to put in an unexpected appearance, I would feel an elation which try as I might I could neither suppress nor ignore.

There was to be a fireworks display in the evening and Charles with Armand were to conduct Sophie and me to the place so that we could have a good view. However during the afternoon the skies became overcast, the rain pelted down and the thunder and lightning were really alarming.

Sophie was terrified as she always had been of thunder, and Charles comforted her solicitously under my cynical eyes. He was clearly amused by my attitude.

‘No trip to Versailles,’ announced Armand. ‘There’ll be no fireworks tonight.’

‘The people will not be very pleased. A lot of them are trudging out to Versailles just to see them,’ said Charles.

‘They can’t blame the King for the storm,’ said Armand with a laugh. ‘Though I have no doubt some of them will.’

‘I dare say they will do the fireworks display on another occasion,’ added Charles. ‘Perhaps here in Paris, which would be sensible. It would save the trip to Versailles.’

‘What an end to the wedding-day!’ I murmured.

‘People are going to say it is a bad omen,’ added Charles.

‘Poor little bride,’ I couldn’t help saying, looking straight at Charles. ‘I hope she will be happy.’

‘They say she looks like a girl who can take care of herself,’ Charles replied, gazing into my eyes. ‘There are some like that. Perhaps that sort need more of a man than our little Dauphin has so far proved himself to be.’

‘Hush!’ said Armand in a mocking voice. ‘You speak treason.’

That evening the four of us played a card game while we listened to the rain spluttering on to the windows of the hôtel. The streets were quiet; it was very different from what we had expected it to be and rather an anticlimax to all the fuss there had been about the royal wedding.

The next day my parents returned to the hôtel. My mother was ecstatic about the reception at Versailles. Sophie and I made her tell us all about it. It had taken place in the chapel of the Palace and my parents had been very honoured to be present. This was because some long way back my father had a blood connection with the royal family.

‘Poor little Dauphin!’ said my mother. ‘He looked most disconsolate in spite of his gold-spangled net garments. Most unhappy and uncertain. She looked enchanting. She is a most attractive girl … so fair and dainty and she was beautiful in a white brocade gown with panniers, which made her look so graceful. We went through the Galerie des Glaces and the Grands Appartements to the Chapel, where the Swiss guards were assembled. Those dear children! They looked so young, they made me want to weep as they knelt before Monseigneur de la Roche-Aymon. I thought the Dauphin was going to drop the ring and the gold pieces he had to bestow on the bride.’