The Black Swan

Encounter with a Swan

Belinda greeted my decision with delight. Then she said scornfully, “I knew you’d come to your senses. It will be such fun. Oh, how glad I am I came to England.” Then she started to talk about the clothes she would take. She planned to go shopping that afternoon and she wanted me to go with her.

Celeste thought it would be a good thing for me to go to France. She said, “It has been different, hasn’t it, since Belinda came? She’s good for us, Lucie. She does stop our brooding a little. I am sure you will feel better in France. You see, you’ll get right away from this place and that must be good for you. You know I told you you should get down to Manorleigh for a time, but I suppose there are too many memories there. This will be a complete change. I’ll send Amy up to help you pack.”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Well... when you need her.”

In spite of myself, during the next few days I was caught up in the excitement. Belinda talked constantly about our trip to France. She was so happy, it was a joy to watch her. I thought how much better she managed her life than I did mine. She had lost her mother not long ago and the man whom she had regarded as a father and of whom she had been fond, yet she was able to cast off the unhappy past and look forward to the future. Perhaps it was a wonderful experience to find a long-lost father-after all, in a way I had known what that meant myself, for I, too, had discovered my father and we had become important to each other. So perhaps it was not so surprising after all.

Preparation for the visit took my mind off constantly wondering what was happening to Joel. I had told myself that there was nothing I could do by staying in London. Belinda’s arrival had caused a great deal of excitement among the servants and I knew she was the main topic of conversation in their quarters. Amy-the girl who was to help me with my packing-was taking the place of one of the parlor maids who was leaving in a month’s time to get married.

She was about sixteen years of age, fresh-faced and pretty; she came from the country, she told me. She was rather loquacious and, I suppose, excited about coming to London. She was getting on very well, she told me. She found the people very friendly. She had been told it would not be like that in London, but she had nothing to complain of.

She had brought in some cases from one of the attics and had set one on the bed. I noticed that she kept glancing toward the window, and I asked if she was expecting to see someone down there.

She blushed faintly. “It... it’s a friend,” she told me.

“Oh. You’ve quickly made friends.”

“This is a special friend, miss. I’ve known him for about three weeks.”

“A young man?”

She blushed deeper and giggled.

“Jack is his name,” she said.

“How did you meet him?”

“It was my afternoon off and I was just going for a walk in the park. He said he was walking that way. So ... we got talking.”

“And you found you had a lot in common, did you?”

“You might say that, miss. He was ever so interesting. I told him where I came from... and he was very pleasant-like.”

“I suppose you’ve been told to be careful of strange men?”

“Oh yes, miss, but he wasn’t like that. He was ever so nice. He said we’d meet again and we did. He’s round this way quite a lot. He delivers things, you see... papers in envelopes... documents, I think he said... from some solicitor. He said people don’t like to trust them to the post.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Do you want to take this skirt, miss? If you’re going to, you’ll want the jacket that goes with it. Oh, here it is. I’ll fold it in tissue, then it won’t get creased.” I went to the window and looked down. A young man was standing on the opposite side of the road in almost exactly the same spot as that other had stood. “There is a young man down there, Amy,” I said.

“I wonder if...” She was beside me. “Oh, that’s him. That’s Jack.”

“Do you want to go down and have a word with him?”

“Oh, could I, miss?”

“Go on,” I said; and she went.

I thought I could easily do the packing myself. It had been Celeste’s idea that I needed help.

I smiled to myself, contemplating Amy and her young man. I expected there would be more; she was an attractive girl.

The day arrived for our departure. Jean Pascal came to the house with the carriage which was to take us to the station.

“I feel honored to escort two beautiful young ladies,” he said gallantly. As we settled into the train Belinda said: “This is an adventure. Not for you, mon pere. You have had too many adventures to get excited about one... if it is an adventure for you which this is not, of course.”

She had decided to call him “mon pere.”

“Father” seemed wrong somehow. She said, you could not suddenly start calling someone father. She thought mon pere more suitable and he seemed to like it. So that was what he had become.

He said now, “I can still get excited about adventures and I do admit that this one is filling me with elation.”

We all leaned forward to wave to Celeste who was standing at the door. As we did so, I caught a glimpse of Amy’s Jack, the deliverer of documents. He was standing on the other side of the road.

“Did you see the young man?” I asked Belinda. “He’s waiting for a glimpse of Amy.” As the carriage moved off I told them about my conversation with Amy. “He delivers documents,” I added.

“An odd occupation,” said Jean Pascal. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It may be that Amy didn’t get it right or he is trying to impress her.”

“I daresay that was it. What of your sister, Rebecca? What does she think about your coming to France?”

“It was all arranged so quickly. I have written to her, but I am wondering whether she will have received my letter by now.”

“I always had such a great respect for Rebecca. A wonderful lady. And now she is living in my old home. I find that rather amusing.”

“Oh, they love High Tor. It’s a fine old house.”

“I agree.”

“It’s a very special place for me, I believe,” said Belinda somewhat roguishly. Her father chose to ignore that remark and, always alert for his reaction, Belinda did not pursue it.

“Everything looks different this morning,” she said. “That’s because we are leaving London.”

In a very short time we had reached the station. We were in good time but the boat train was already waiting. A porter took our luggage and we were conducted along the platform to a first class carriage.

“I expect you two young ladies would like corner seats,” said Jean Pascal.

“Oh yes, please,” cried Belinda.

She got into the train and I was about to follow her when some instinct made me turn my head. I looked along the platform and, to my astonishment, I was sure a young man I saw not far from us was Amy’s friend, Jack.

No, I thought. We left him near the house. It couldn’t possibly be. What would he be doing here at the boat train?

“Come on,” said Belinda. “What are you waiting for?”

I got into the train.

“Here is your window seat,” said Jean Pascal. He took my arm and as I sat down his hand lingered on mine.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

I could not stop thinking of Amy’s Jack. It must have been someone who bore a resemblance to him. He was really quite an ordinary young man and the mistake was understandable. Belinda sat back in her seat and closed her eyes.

“Isn’t this wonderful?” she said.

It was during the Channel crossing that I met the Fitzgeralds. The sea was smooth and Belinda and I were sitting on the deck with Jean Pascal. Belinda was talking animatedly with her father. I sometimes felt I was a little de trap. It was easy for me to understand that. Belinda wanted to be alone with the father whom she had recently discovered. She had wanted me to come along with them, true, and she had been very insistent that I should but there were moments when they wished to be alone together and this was one of them.

I stood up and said, “I am going to take a little walk.”

“Don’t go too far away,” cautioned Jean Pascal.

“No, I won’t. I’ll keep you in sight.”

I walked a little way and paused to lean on the rail and look at the sea. There was no sight of land, and the faintest breeze ruffled the waves a little. I stood, filling my lungs with the fresh air. Where was Joel now? I wondered, as I did constantly. How was Gerald faring with his what-could-be-called a wild goose chase? How could he discover what others had failed to do?

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” said a voice beside me.

I turned. A young woman was standing beside me. She was taller than I, fair-haired and had a pleasant smile.

“Very,” I replied.

“We’re lucky to have it so smooth. It can be quite rough really.”

“I’m sure it can. You cross often, do you?”

“Not often, but I have done it before... when it wasn’t so pleasant. Is this your first crossing?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, then I’m glad it is a good one.”

There was silence while we both looked out to sea. Then she said, “Are you staying in France?”

“Yes... for a time.”

“Beautiful country.”

“You know it well?”

“Not really. But I have visited it several times. This time we are going farther south than usual. Near Bordeaux.”

“Oh ... so are we!”

“On holiday?”

“Yes ... I suppose so. Visiting.”

“I’m convalescing.”

“Oh! You’ve been ill?”

“My brother says I need a rest away from the damp of home. He thinks this is the place. He says the climate is good for the vines so it will be for me. That’s why he’s taking me.”

“How nice of him.”

“He’s a very good brother, but he fusses a little. I’m not complaining. It’s comforting.

Well, there are just the two of us now, you see. Oh... here he is.” A man was coming toward us. He was tall and had the same pleasant smile which I had thought attractive in his sister. He was a few years older than she was, I imagined. “Oh... there you are, Phillida,” he said, not noticing me for a few seconds. “There’s a chill in the air. Button up your coat.”

She looked at me and smiled as though to say, there, I told you so.

I was about to move away when she said: “This is my brother Roland... Roland Fitzgerald.”

“How do you do?” I said.

He took my hand and shook it. He was looking at me questioningly. “I’m Lucie Lansdon,” I said.

“We were just chatting as we looked at the sea and congratulated ourselves on its calmness,” said Phillida.

He looked at her with mock exasperation which told me that it was a habit of hers to chat to strangers and one of which he did not entirely approve. “She’s going to stay near Bordeaux,” announced Phillida. “Oh, not exactly Bordeaux,” I said. “It’s a place near, I think. A little place called Bourdon. I imagine it’s a sort of hamlet.”

“I believe I’ve heard of it,” he said. “We shall be a few miles further south. Isn’t there a chateau there? Chateau Bourdon, I believe.”

“Yes, that’s right. I suppose I ought to be going. It won’t be long before we are disembarking.”

“It was very nice to have a chat,” said Phillida.

Her brother put his arm through hers and, smiling, I turned away and went back to Belinda and Jean Pascal.

I wondered during the long journey down to Bourdon whether I should see the Fitzgeralds again as they were traveling in the same direction; but I did not. There were so many hours in the train... first to Paris, where we had to change, then to Bordeaux where a carriage was waiting for us, to take us the several miles to Bourdon.

It was late at night when we arrived, so I could not see the full glory of the chateau at that time. We turned into a long avenue with big trees on either side and we seemed to drive for at least a mile before we came to the chateau.

As we pulled up several people came running toward us and there appeared to be a great deal of bustle from within. I was aware of a dark imposing building. We mounted several stone steps to reach the door. Belinda was awestruck and for once silent. Two men appeared with lanterns to guide us into an enormous hall. A sudden feeling of dread came over me, and a ridiculous impulse to turn and run back home, down to Cornwall and Rebecca. It was an absurd feeling which I dismissed at once. I was overwrought. Too much that was tragic had happened to me in too short a time. My father... Joel ... I felt an almost unbearable longing for them both... my father’s shrewd common sense... Joel’s gentleness. If only I could enjoy them again. I glanced at Belinda. She clearly felt no such misgivings: her mood was one of sheer enchantment. People were scurrying about in all directions; and Jean Pascal was giving orders in rapid French. Therese... Marie... Jeanne... Jacques... Georges ... there seemed to be so many of them. I gathered that first we were to be shown our rooms where we could wash and change before eating.

I was given in the care of Therese who was middle-aged and brisk. She took me up a wide staircase to a corridor which was long and dark. She set down a candelabrum which she was carrying and lighted its three candles, then she held it high and I followed her to the room which had been chosen for me. I shivered a little. I thought, it will be different in daylight. I was trying to shake off that sense of foreboding.

Therese indicated the hot water and towels which had been set up in a little alcove, and which I later learned was called a ruelle. I managed to understand what she was saying, which was that she would return for me in fifteen minutes and take me to the dining room.

There was a basin and ewer, so I washed and combed my hair. My face in candlelight looked back at me from an antique mirror; it seemed mottled and unlike me... almost a stranger.

Why had I come here? I was asking myself. I might now be at High Tor with Rebecca. I had hesitated, it was true, but Belinda had been persuasive and I was as easily influenced by her as I had ever been.

I told myself that I was being foolish. It had been a long and exhausting journey; I was in a strange land; I had suffered a great shock from which I had not yet recovered.

I would feel differently in the morning.

Therese came and took me down to the dining room where Jean Pascal was waiting. He took my hands and held them firmly.

“It is my earnest desire that you should be happy here, Lucie,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“I shall do my best to make you like this place.”

“It is kind of you.”

Belinda had arrived.

“What an exciting place!” she cried. “I long to explore.”

“Which you shall do in the morning,” her father assured her. “I myself will take you on a tour of inspection... and Lucie as well, of course.”

“I long to see it all,” enthused Belinda.

“For tonight you must content yourself with what my servants have prepared for you.

I will not have you see too much of my chateau for the first time in the dark.”

Belinda laughed with pleasure.

The meal seemed to go on for a long time. I felt a little better. I had just had an attack of nerves... something which I had thought could not happen to me. I was just tired and could not feel that exuberance that Belinda did. Jean Pascal was eager for us to taste the wine. It was one of the finest vintages, he told us, and he had ordered it to be served tonight because this was a special occasion.

“And this is your own wine?” cried Belinda.

“My dear child, did you think I would allow anything else to be served in my chateau?” Belinda laughed. I liked to see her happy. She had an effect on me, for she helped to lift my spirits.

When the meal was over Jean Pascal suggested we retire. “We are all feeling the effects of the long journey,” he said. “All those hours on the train... they are a trial of endurance.”

So we said good night and Jean Pascal summoned the servants to conduct us to our rooms. Therese took me to mine. I could see why this was necessary. I should not have been able to find mine by myself.

Candles throw shadows over a room and somehow they disturb the imagination. The drapes had been drawn across the windows. I undressed but before getting into bed I went to the window and drew back the curtains. I could just see a green expanse in the middle of which was a fountain. There was no moon, but the stars were bright; and I felt happier with the light from them in my room.

I wondered if Belinda’s room was close to mine. She seemed to have gone in another direction when we had been escorted up after dinner.

The place seemed very quiet.

I looked at my door which was heavy, with intricate carving. It seemed to me that some of the flowers seemed to have human faces. It was beautiful, I supposed, but in a way menacing-as I saw it that night.

That was the mood I was in.

Then I noticed the key in the lock. I turned it. Now I had locked myself in.

It was amazing how much better that made me feel.

I got into bed, but it was a long time before I slept.

When I awoke the sun was shining.

The room looked quite different. I unlocked my door and went back to bed. I saw that it was seven o’clock. I lay there wondering what life would be like here. I started thinking of how much everything had changed since my father’s death. I was longing for the old days... the familiar house, the conversations we had had. I wanted to wait up for him on his late nights at the House, to enjoy once more those evenings when I sat opposite him watching him eat while he told me about the day’s proceedings; I wanted to think of a settled future with Joel, marrying with the approval of both families... settling into a way of life which was already familiar to me.

I had believed it was there... waiting for me, but with two blows, fate had decided otherwise; and there I was in an ancient chateau which echoed with memories of the past; it seemed to me that there were ghosts here, ready to emerge. Many stirring events must have happened here... death... unhappiness... dark secrets. Pleasures too... joys... happiness. Why, in such places did one always think of the unpleasant things? Perhaps because they were more obtrusive. What was I expected to do? I presumed a maid would come in with hot water. In the last few days I had tried to improve the French I had learned with Miss Jarrett; speaking it ... particularly with the natives... was quite different from reading and speaking it with Miss Jarrett.

At about eight o’clock there was a tap at my door. I called for whoever was there to come in.

It was Therese with a tray on which was a brioche and pieces of hot crusty bread, a little pot of butter, a cup and saucer and two jugs, one containing coffee, the other hot milk, both covered with woolen cozies to keep them warm. “Petit dejeuner, Mademoiselle,” she told me.

With her was another maid who carried a big metal jug full of hot water which she placed in the ruelle.

I thanked them and, smiling, they departed.

The coffee was delicious, so were the hot bread and brioche. While we were at dinner on the previous night our luggage had been brought to our rooms. I had been too tired to unpack last night and had just taken out things I needed for my immediate use.

I put on a dark blue dress and hung up the rest of my clothes in the wardrobe. While I was doing this, there was a knock on my door and before I could answer Belinda walked in.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” she demanded. “Isn’t it fun? Do you like your room? It’s very like mine.”

“I suppose most of the rooms are rather alike.”

“I’m longing to explore. Aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“It’s all so fascinating. You are very lucky, Lucie.”

“Am I?”

“Oh, poor Lucie.” She rushed at me and put her arms round me in a protective gesture. “I do put my foot in it, don’t I? But you’ve got to stop thinking of all that. Life goes on. Mon pere says we’ve got to make you see that. We’re going to make you happy here. He says so.”

“That’s very good of him.”

“He is good... really. Oh, I know he sounds a little cynical sometimes, but he has lived, Lucie, really lived. That doesn’t mean he isn’t kind. He talks a lot about you. He says you ought to be enjoying life because you’ve got so much to make you.”

“It is certainly good of him to give so much attention to my affairs.”

“He likes you. He wouldn’t have asked you to come here if he hadn’t.”

“Oh, that was to please you.”

“Oh no, it wasn’t... although it does please me. He was the first one to suggest it.”

“Oh well, here I am.”

“And we’re going to have a lovely time. I’m going to make you enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Belinda.”

“Well, hurry up and finish and we’ll go down. I wonder if mon pere is already up?”

“Where is your room, Belinda?”

“On the other side of the chateau.” She went to the window. “I’ve got a different view. I look out on the lake. Well, it’s like a lake. There’s a stream, too... part of the river, I think... and it flows into the lake. There are swans on the lake. Two black ones. I haven’t seen black ones before. It’s lovely.”

“So, we are quite away from each other.”

“Well, it is a big chateau.”

“Your father said it was of medium size.”

“He was comparing it with the royal ones... chateaux of the Loire... Blois and places like that. This is a nobleman’s chateau, not a king’s.”

“I see.”

“Well, hurry up. I’ll be down in the hall. You’ll find your way down.”

“I hope so.”

“And don’t be long.”

The morning was spent exploring the castle.

“It is essential that you do so, otherwise you will be hopelessly lost,” explained Jean Pascal. “I am going to take you outside and bring you in as though you are just arriving.”

“It was too dark for us to see properly last night,” said Belinda.

“I want you both to like the chateau. It’s very important to our family.”

“And yet,” I said, “you left it.”

“Ah, Lucie, it was a wrench. But our country was in turmoil. We did not know which way we were going. Memories are still with us of the great Revolution, which took place only about a hundred years ago. The Emperor and Empress went into exile. You cannot imagine what that did to our country. We thought it was coming again. Fortunately, tragic though this was ... it was not of the same magnitude as that which our country had suffered before.”

“But you were able to keep the chateau,” I said, “and it is still yours.”

“Yes... and I am a frequent visitor here. In fact I believe I am here more than anywhere else. The wine... well, shall we say it is a kind of hobby. I wish I could persuade my mother to return... but she is there with the Empress. Perhaps one day it will change.”

“Celeste never comes here,” I said.

“Celeste ...oh, poor Celeste! Her marriage took her away and she became a politician’s wife.”

“Perhaps now she would like to come back?”

“She does not say she would.” He lifted his shoulders. “She knows it is her home... the family home ... if she wants to come, she can do so.”

“It may be that she will. She is not very happy in London.”

“No. But we are not here to talk of sad things. This has to be a happy time. I insist.

So does Belinda, do you not?”

“Yes, I insist. So stop being morbid, Lucie. You’ve got to enjoy all this.”

“You see,” said Jean Pascal, “it is an order. Now we are outside we will approach the chateau as though we are entering it for the first time.” We ascended the imposing marble steps at the bottom of which stood two huge marble containers, full of green shrubs which trailed their leaves over the pedestals on which they stood.

Looking back, we could see that the tree-lined drive opened onto the lawn which was immediately in front of the house.

Jean Pascal made us turn our faces to the chateau.

“You see, the building is dominated by the tower,” he said. “In the old days it was called the watch tower; and in times of trouble a man would be posted up there, his sole duty being to watch and give warning of any suspicious person or persons approaching. He used to while away the time by singing songs or playing the flute. A musician always had to be chosen for the job because he could practice his art while watching. I remember its being done when I was here in the ‘70s, at the time when we were expecting trouble. People would hear the singing or the flute playing and know that all was well. We had our watcher. The songs were called Watchman’s Songs and they were often his own compositions. In French we called them chansons de guettes. You see, the tower is right in the center ... just below is what is called the palace. That is the part where the family live.”

He waved his arms toward the lawn and went on, “Tournaments used to be held here... tilting and jousting. The chateau was the center of life in the neighborhood at that time. You see how that staircase is supported by the vaults. Beggars and hangers-on used to congregate there. They were given the remains of food after meals. Everything is different now.”

We mounted the steps and went into the hall.

“This was the main living room in medieval days,” he continued. “Look up and you will see the hole in the roof where there was once a vent to let out the smoke. But that was changed a hundred years ago and we have our big fireplace over there, you see, and our chimney to take away the smoke. If you look closely you can see, in the center of the hall, where the fire used to be. You see those tiles? The chateau has indeed changed since medieval times, but we are still proud of the past and my family have always kept as much intact as possible, but when it was excessively uncomfortable then we felt it advisable to move with the times.”

So he talked and I could visualize what it had been like in the old days. I could see the beggars under the steps, the guests in their brilliant costumes sitting on those same steps on a warm summer’s evening. I wondered about the long-dead Bourdons and what their lives had been like. They seemed to linger on ... even in daylight. He showed us the salon and the salle a manger which had been introduced into the chateau within the last two hundred years; we saw the extra wing which had been added to make more bedrooms. It was a mingling of the ancient and... well, not exactly modern, but later periods than those when the Chateau Bourdon had been erected. I could see why he was proud of it, and how great a tragedy it must have been to his family when they had felt obliged to leave it.

I wondered why they had not been lured back.

Jean Pascal said, “My parents were devoted to Napoleon and Eugenie. They spent a great deal of time at Court ... far more than they did here and when the Emperor and Empress were forced into exile, they had to join them.” There was so much to see that the tour of the castle lasted a long time.

“Years ago,” he told us, “noble families would send their sons and daughters to be brought up away from their own homes. I don’t know why this was the custom; perhaps it was thought that parents would be too lenient. Young girls and young men were brought up here. The men would learn courtly manners, how to joust and so on, to make them worthy to go to Court when the time came.”

“And what of the girls?” asked Belinda.

“Oh, they were taught how to be good wives and mothers and please their husbands.”

“Were the men taught to please their wives?” I asked.

“Ah, Miss Lucie, that was something they knew how to do without tuition. I see you are skeptical. You do not believe that is something which comes naturally to a man?”

“I am sure it does not. I just wondered whether it might not have been a good idea to give them a little tuition as it was thought necessary for the women.” He smiled benignly at me. “I think you may be right, Lucie,” he said. “Now let me show you where the girls used to come to learn how to embroider, how to sing, how to play some musical instrument and how to charm the men. It is called the Maidens’ Room or La Chambre des Pucelles. We always keep it just as it was. I like to think of the girls here ... so young ... so pretty ... so docile ... all so eager to learn.” He was regarding me with an expression I did not understand, but it made me a little uneasy.

I wished that I could cast off that sense of foreboding which the place seemed to inspire in me. It was not as intense as it had been on the previous night, but it lingered. I told myself it was the strangeness of the place-and, of course, my fanciful nature.

We had explored the chateau and were back in the hall when the door was suddenly opened and a woman came in. She was in a riding habit of silver-gray, and her hair, which was luxurious and golden, showed beneath her gray riding hat. “Jean Pascal!” she cried, coming toward him, smiling. “I heard you were home.”

Jean Pascal looked distinctly annoyed. I had never seen him look like that before.

He seemed really angry.

“Oh, Clotilde,” he said. “I am busy now... showing my guests round the chateau.”

“How amusing!” She waited expectantly.

“I’ll see you later on.”

She looked amazed. I wondered why he did not introduce us. So did she evidently, because she came forward and stood looking at us expectantly. There was no alternative then but for Jean Pascal to act as we all expected. “My daughter Belinda... Mademoiselle Lansdon,” he murmured. “And ... er ... Madame Carleon.”

In our somewhat labored French Belinda and I said we were enchanted to meet her.

“Well, we must go,” said Jean Pascal. “I’ll see you at some other time, Clotilde.”

She stared at him for a second or two and then, turning, walked out of the hall.

I listened to her footsteps on the marble steps.

Jean Pascal quickly recovered from what seemed to have been for him an unpleasant experience.

“You haven’t seen it all yet,” he was saying. “We have some magnificent stables and plenty of horses. So you will be able to ride round and explore.” I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs and I guessed that Madame Carleon was departing in anger.

I wondered what that was all about.

A few days passed. Jean Pascal seemed determined that we should enjoy our stay. I wondered whether he had it in his mind that Belinda should live here permanently. I had an idea that he was interested in her... and perhaps asking himself whether he wanted a grown-up daughter in his household. He might find it amusing for a while, certainly, but would he grow tired? I was sure that Belinda wanted to be with him. His mode of living would suit her, I was sure. It would be more exciting residing in the chateau, visiting royalty at Farnborough and traveling with her father. Quite different from the comparatively dull lives we lived in London.

But he did include me in everything. He would ask my opinion and always considered it carefully. He really did seem as though he were trying to please me. In fact there were times when I think Belinda grew a little impatient because he bestowed so much attention on me.

He told me that he had a few friends and acquaintances in the neighborhood and that we should have a dinner party; and he had no doubt that there would be invitations for us to visit.

Belinda was much looking forward to that. She had already been to Bordeaux and bought some clothes. She regretted that we were so far from Paris. How she would have loved to see the shops in that city!

I still kept to my plan to escape from them from time to time. I found a need to be alone. Every day I hoped there would be news of Joel. Celeste had assured me that she would let me know at once if she heard anything; and the Greenhams would of course keep her informed, knowing I was as anxious as they were. The grounds about the chateau provided me with great pleasure. They were extensive; there was a small pine wood to which one could retreat and feel as though one were a long way from any habitation; it was always a pleasure to emerge from the trees and see the central tower of the chateau and the two round ones at either end of the building. Standing some distance from it, the symmetrical beauty of the place struck one forcibly.

I liked to wander along the banks of the lake and to watch the swans; both remained aloof and rarely came to the water’s edge. The big one, the cob, was always followed by his smaller mate. He looked very dignified with her always following in his wake. The little ducks were more friendly. They would come close, always hoping for some little tidbit to eat, I imagined.

On this particular day I was unusually deep in thought, telling myself that there must be news of Joel soon. Time was passing. Surely if anything was to be discovered it must be in the near future. It had been so long that I was beginning to despair and feel I might never see him again.

I had wandered to the edge of the lake as I watched the swans. The large one was coming purposefully toward me, the little one docilely swimming behind him. I thought how beautiful they were, so exquisitely graceful and serene. They were coming nearer and nearer. I was surprised. Previously they had seemed somewhat disdainfully aloof.

Then I heard the sound of horse’s hoofs. I turned. Jean Pascal was galloping toward me. He was alone.

I did not know why I had that sudden feeling of uneasiness. I was subject to strange moods in the chateau. Often I felt this sense of foreboding which I found impossible to shake off. It seemed to me that the servants watched us ... Belinda and myself... closely-as though they were speculating. Once or twice I caught the whispered words les anglaises so I knew we were the subject of their conversation. “Lucie!” Jean Pascal was calling my name and there was an urgent note in his voice.

“Come here. Come to me ... quickly!”

I did not move... and then I heard the sound of flapping wings. I turned sharply.

The big black swan was flying straight at me. Jean Pascal had leaped from his horse. He pushed me roughly to one side. The swan turned its attention to him. Fortunately there was a fairly stout branch of a tree lying on the ground and with great presence of mind Jean Pascal picked it up. He was just in time to be able to protect his head by striking out at the swan. He took a few paces backward and hit out. For a few seconds continued to attack him; and then suddenly it turned and flew back to the lake. I stood still, shocked, while it swam back to the middle of the lake, his meek mate following in her usual fashion, just as though nothing untoward had happened.

Jean Pascal put his hand on my shoulder. He whistled. “That was rather uncomfortable,” he said.

He took both my hands. “You’re trembling,” he said.

“It happened so quickly ... I didn’t realize what it was all about.”

He dropped my hands and put an arm around me.

“Dear little Lucie, it is all over now.” He held me tightly against him and I wanted to cry out in panic, for he alarmed me as much as the swan had.

I tried to break free but he held me firmly. “You see,” he said. “I was there. I hope always to be at hand when you need me.”

I managed to free myself. “It was good of you,” I said. “Why did the swan try to attack first me... and then you?”

“You should have been warned. He’s a wicked old fellow, that swan, for all his good looks. We call him Diable. His little mate is so charming. She would never indulge in tantrums. She wouldn’t dare to with old Diable around. As a matter of fact her name is Ange. So you see, we have a devil and an angel. You went too near the lake, which Diable regards as his property. He doesn’t like people intruding. We have to be careful not to offend him. You should have been warned.”

“He’s quite dangerous, and he was ready to attack you.”

“Oh, he is no respecter of persons. He is quite ungrateful to those who provide for him. There’s a certain arrogance about him. Heaven knows what would have happened to you if I hadn’t come along just in time. He would have attacked your face ... pecked at your nose or your eyes. His wings are strong. He’s a magnificent creature. Mon Dieu, the thought of your being hurt ... I am so annoyed with myself. We’re so used to Diable here that we forget to tell people how vicious he can be. He’s a menace to the unaware. Never go near the edge of the lake again, and when you are out walking, find a stout stick just in case you encounter Diable.”

“Why do you have such a dangerous creature on your lake?”

“He keeps it clean... and you must admit he is rather majestic.”

“I admit that... but so dangerous!”

“Well, we accept him. The servants all know Diable, and now ... so do you. You are becoming one of us, Lucie.”

“You have been most hospitable.”

Belinda was coming toward us. She frowned to see us together. I wanted to tell her how pleased I was to see her as I did not feel happy when I was alone with her father.

We told her about the adventure.

“Trust you, Lucie, to provoke him,” said Belinda.

“It could have happened to anyone... even to you.”

“I knew swans could be like that... male ones anyway.” Jean Pascal laughed. “You see, Belinda knows the ways of the world. She recognizes the dangerous male who is so different from the gentle, charming female.”

“It’s not always like that,” said Belinda.

“That’s one thing you have to learn in life, isn’t it-not to generalize,” he said.

“There will always be exceptions.”

And so we came to the chateau. I went to my room. I was still shaken... not only by the swan’s attack but by the manner in which Jean Pascal had held me to him and the look in his eyes when he spoke to me.