“At one time I thought it very wise. She misses the society of young people. A girl of her age should have friends. It is because she had none that she is so unpredictable . given to moods and tantrums, playing these tricks. “
“I see. And it was an idea of yours to give her this companionship ?”
“Yes. I have seen her very happy at the Bastides’.”
“And you also?”
“Yes. I have enjoyed their company very much.”
“Jean Pierre has a reputation for being … gallant.”
“Who has not? Gallantry is as common in this part of your country as the grape.” To be in his company made me reckless. I felt I had to discover what his feelings were towards me . and how they compared with what he felt for Claude. I said: “I’ve been thinking that perhaps it would be as well if I left. I could go in say … two weeks. I think I could finish the pictures I have started on by that time. That would satisfy Madame de la Talle, and as Genevieve could scarcely go riding alone to the Bastides’, this matter would be neatly settled.”
“One cannot run one’s life for the sake of neatness, Mademoiselle Lawson.”
I laughed, and he laughed with me.
“Now please,” he said, ‘no more talk of leaving us. “
“But Madame de la Talle …”
“Leave me to deal with her.”
He looked at me, and for one glorious moment it seemed as though the mask slipped from his face. He might have been telling me that he could no more bear to lose me than I could bear to go.
When next I saw Genevieve I noticed the sullen set of her lips.
She told me she hated everyone . the whole world. Chiefly she hated the woman who called herself Aunt Claude.
“She has forbidden me again to go to the Maison Bastide, miss. And
this time Papa was with her. He said I must not go there without permission from him. That means never … because he’ll never give it.”
“He might. If…”
“No. She has told him not to and he does what she tells him. It’s strange to think of him doing what anyone tells him … but he does what she says.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t always.”
“You don’t know, miss. Sometimes I think you don’t know much about anything but speaking English and being a governess.”
“Governesses at least have to know a good deal before they can teach.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, miss. I hate everybody in this house, I tell you. One day I’ll run away.”
A few days later I met Jean Pierre. I was riding alone, for Genevieve had avoided me since her outburst.
He came galloping up to me, his expression one of extreme pleasure as it always was when he saw me.
“Look at those grapes!” he cried.
“Did you ever see the like? We shall have wine this year worthy of bottling with the chateau label. If nothing goes wrong,” he added hastily as though placating some god who might be listening and punish him for arrogance.
“There’s only one other season I remember when they were as good.” His expression changed suddenly.
“But I might not be here to see this harvest.”
“What!”
“Hints, so far. But Monsieur Ie Comte is looking for a good man to send to the Mermoz vineyard, and I am a very good man, so I’m told.”
“Leave Gaillard! But how could you do that?”
“Simply by moving myself to Mermoz.”
“It’s impossible.”
“With God and the Comte all things are possible.” He was passionately angry suddenly.
“Oh, don’t you see, Dallas, we are of no importance to Monsieur Ie Comte. We are pawns to be moved this way and that all for the benefit of the games he plays.
He does not want me here, shall we say . well, then, I am moved across the chequer board to another place. I am a danger here . to Monsieur Ie Comte. “
“A danger? How could you be?”
“How can a humble pawn threaten to put the king in check? That is the subtlety of the game. We do not see how we disturb or threaten the peace of mind of the great. But if we do for a moment we are whisked far away. Do you understand?”
“He is very kind to Gabrielle. He settled her in St. Vallient with Jacques.”
“Oh, very kind …” murmured Jean Pierre.
“And why should he want you out of the way?”
“There could be several reasons. It may be because you and Genevieve had visited us.”
“Madame de la Talle wanted to dismiss me because of it. In fact she appealed to the Comte.” || “And he wouldn’t hear of it?”
“He wants his pictures restored.”
“Is that all, do you think? Dallas, be careful. He’s a dangerous man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Women are fascinated by danger, so they tell me. His wife, poor lady, was most unhappy. She was unwanted so she departed.”
“What are you trying to tell me, Jean Pierre?”
“To take care,” he said.
“To take great care.” He leaned towards me and taking my hand, kissed it.
“It is important".
Ten
The atmosphere of the chateau had grown heavy with tension. Genevieve was sullen and I wondered what was going on in her mind. As for Claude, she was angry and humiliated because the Comte had refused to comply with her wishes and I sensed her brooding resentment against me. She read a significance in his championing of me-and so did I. Philippe was uneasy. He came to me when I was in the gallery almost shyly as though he did not want to be discovered there. I imagined that he was afraid of his wife as well as the Comte.
“I hear that you have had a disagreement with … my wife. I’m sorry about it. It’s not that I wish you to go, Mademoiselle Lawson. But here in this house …” He lifted his shoulders.
“I feel I should finish what I have begun.”
“And you will do so … soon?”
“Well, there is more to do yet.”
“And when it is finished you can rely on me to help if I can … but if you should decide to go before, I could probably find you other similar work.”
“I will remember.”
He went away rather sadly and I thought: He is a man who is all for peace. He has no spirit. Perhaps that is why he is here.
Yet strangely enough there was a similarity between him and the Comte; his voice was like the Comte’s, his features too. Yet one was so positive, the other negative. Philippe must have lived in the shadow of his rich and powerful relations. Perhaps that had made him the man he was 2. timidly seeking peace. But he had been kind to me from the first and I believe now that he wanted me to go because of the conflict between myself and his wife.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I should leave as soon as I had finished the picture on which I was working. No good could come of my staying here. The emotions the Comte aroused in me could only become more involved; the scars which separation must necessarily inflict would only be deeper.
I will go, I promised myself. And then because in my heart I was determined not to leave, I began to look for the wall-painting which I suspected might be hidden under the lime wash that covered the walls. I could become absorbed again in this work and forget the conflicts which swirled about me; and at the same time give myself an excuse for staying at the chateau.
The room I was particularly interested in was a small one leading from the gallery. There was a window facing north which gave an excellent light and from it I could look across the gentle slopes of vineyards in the direction of Paris.
I remembered how excited my father had been on the occasion when he had seen a wall rather similar to this. He had told me then how in many English mansions wall-paintings had been hidden under coats of lime-wash. They had been covered, he said, perhaps because they had been damaged or because the pictures had become no longer pleasing.