The Devil on Horseback

I

Petit Montlys was a charming small town some hundred miles south of Paris, sheltering in the shadow of its bigger sister town known as Grand Montlys. It was the end of April when we arrived. I had sold my furniture with the help of Sir John and had taken Jenny over to the Mansers, asking them to look after her. Sir John himself paid me a good price for Dower and promised that if I returned to England he would sell her back to me for the price my mother had paid for her. I was to receive a salary from the Comte which was handsome by any standards and only when the burden was lifted from my shoulders did I realize how anxious I had been about my financial situation.

Mrs. Manser shook her head over my decision. Clearly she disapproved.

She did not know, of course, that Margot was pregnant, but thought I was taking a post as her companion in the Comte’s household, which was the story the Derringhams put about.

“You’ll be back,” she prophesied. I give you no more than a couple of months. There’ll be a room for you here. Then I reckon you’ll know which side your bread is buttered. “

I kissed her and thanked her.

“You were always such a good friend to me and my mother,” I told her.

“I don’t like to see a sensible woman take the wrong, turning,” she said.

“I know what it is, though. It’s all that upset over Joel Derringham. It’s clear what that was worth and I do see that you want to get away for a while.”

I left it at that, letting her think she was right. I did not want to show her how exhilarated I felt.

We travelled by post-chaise to the coast and there took ship for France. We were lucky to have a fair crossing and when we reached the other side were met by a middle-aged couple-evidently loyal servants of the Comte’s-who were to be our chaperons throughout the journey.

We did not go through Paris but stayed in small inns and after several days finally arrived at Petit Montlys and there were taken to the home of Madame Gremond, who was to be our landlady for the next few months.

She received us warmly and commiserated with Margot, who had become Madame Ie Brun, on the exigencies of such a journey for a woman in her condition. I was glad to be able to retain my own name.

I cannot but say how Margot seemed to be enjoying her role. She had always liked play-acting and this must surely , be the most important part she had ever played. The story ] was that her husband, Pierre Ie Brun, who had managed a large estate for a very important nobleman, had been drowned while trying to save his master’s wolfhound during a flood in northern France. His wife had found that she was to have a child and because her husband’s death had so distressed her, her cousin had, on the advice of her doctor, brought her right away from the scene of the tragedy, that she might remain tranquil until after the birth of her baby.

Margot threw herself so whole-heartedly into her re1e and talked fondly of Pierre, shedding tears over his death and even endowing the wolfhound with life.

“Dear faithful Chon Chon He was devoted to my dear Pierre,” she said.

“Who would have thought that one day Chon-Chon would be the cause of my darling’s death.”

Then she would talk of how tragic it was that Pierre would never see his child. I wondered whether she was thinking of James Wedder then.

The journey had indeed been exhausting and it was good that we had taken it when we did. A few weeks later and it would have been very trying for Margot.

Madame Gremond turned out to be the most discreet of women and I was to wonder, during the next few months, whether she was aware of the truth. She was a handsome woman and in her youth must have been extremely attractive. She must now be in her mid-forties and the thought occurred to me that she might be doing what she was for an old friend the Comte, of course. K I was right, she was a woman whom he would trust; and of course the thought had occurred to me that she might well have been one of the numerous mistresses I was sure he had had.

The house was pleasant not large, but set in a garden and approached by a drive. Although it was in the town it seemed isolated because of the trees which surrounded it.

Margot and I were given rooms side by side at the back of the house overlooking the gardens. These rooms, though not luxurious, were adequately furnished. There were two maids in the house Jeanne and Emilie Dupont, whose duty it was to wait on us. Jeanne was inclined to be talkative, while Emilie was almost morose and scarcely said a word unless she was spoken to. Jeanne was very interested in us; her little dark eyes were like a monkey’s, I thought alive with curiosity. She hovered about Margot, fussing over her, so eager was she for her comfort. Margot, who loved to be the centre of attention, soon grew quite fond of her. I would often find them chattering together.

“Be careful,” I warned.

“You could easily betray something.”

“I shall betray nothing,” she protested.

“Do you know, sometimes I awake in the night and almost weep for poor Pierre, which shows you how deep I am in my part. It really does seem that he was my husband.”

“I expect he looks rather like James Wedder.”

“Exactly. I thought that was the best way to play it … as near to the truth as possible. After all, James is the baby’s father and I did lose him suddenly-only by a different method.”

“Quite a different kind of exit,” I commented wryly. But I was pleased to see how she was recovering from the first shock of her experience.

Now she was gay, actually revelling in the situation, which would have been difficult to understand if one had not been aware of Margot’s temperament.

She had one characteristic which was a help to her. She could live completely in the present, no matter how threatening the future might seem. I confess there were times when I was influenced by her and when what was happening seemed like a merry adventure instead of the serious matter it was.

The weather was perfect. All through June we enjoyed the sunshine. We would sit under the sycamore tree and talk as we sewed. We took a great delight in making baby garments though neither of us, I must admit, were exactly geniuses with our needles; and Margot would often tire of a garment before she had finished it. Emilie, it seemed, was an expert needle-woman and more than once she came to the rescue and finished off some little thing, decorating it with the most exquisite feather-stitching, at which she excelled. She would take the garment away and we would find it finished and neatly folded in one of our rooms. When we thanked her she would seem quite embarrassed. I found communication with her very difficult.

“It’s due to Jeanne’s being so much prettier,” Margot told me.

“Poor Emilie, she’s scarcely a beauty, is she?” I “She’s a good worker.”

“Maybe, but will that get her a husband? Jeanne plans to marry Gaston the gardener in due course. She told me all about it. Madame Gremond has promised them one of the outhouses which they can turn into a cottage. Gaston is clever with his hands.”

Again I repeated my warning: “Do you think you gossip too much with Jeanne?”

“Why should I not talk to her? It passes the time.”

“We shall have Madame Gremond complaining that she chats with you instead of working.”

“Madame Gremond is anxious to make us comfortable, I think.”

“I wonder why we have been sent to her.”

My father arranged it. “

“Do you think she is or might have been a friend of his?”

Margot lifted her shoulders.

“That may be. He has many friends.”

I used to wake to the sunshine in the morning and pull up the blinds which were at all the windows, for the sun could be fierce. I would look out on to the garden, the smooth lawn, the wicker seats under the sycamore tree, the pond in which the birds bathed. It was a scene of utter peace.

During the first weeks we often took a walk through the town where we would shop for what we wanted. We became known as Madame Ie Brun, the very young widow who had suffered a great tragedy-when she had lost the husband who would never see his child, and the English cousin. I knew they gossiped about us; sometimes they would barely wait for us to leave the shop. Of course, our coming was an event in the quietness of Petit Montlys, and I sometimes doubted the Comte’s wisdom in sending us here. Whereas we might have been lost in a larger town, here we were the focus of attention.

Sometimes we did a little shopping for Madame Gremond, and I enjoyed buying the hot loaves which came straight from the glowing oven set in the wall. The baker drew them out with his long tongs and displayed them for us to select those which most appealed to us. Slack baked, well baked, medium baked, you took your choice. And what delicious bread it was!

Then we would stroll through the market which took place every Wednesday, and on those days the peasants would come in from the surrounding country, their produce laden on donkeys, and set up in the market square. The housewives of Petit Montlys drove a hard bargain with them and I liked to listen to the haggling. We so much enjoyed the market that we asked Madame Gremond to let us shop for her there too. Sometimes Jeanne or Emilie would come with us because she said the peasants put up prices when they saw the sad widow and her English cousin.

By the end of June we both felt that we had been in Petit Montlys for months. Sometimes the strangeness of it all would strike me, for my life had changed so drastically. Only this time last year my mother had been alive and I had had no idea that I would ever do anything but continue with the teaching career she had planned for me.

Each day seemed very like the last and there was nothing like this peaceful pleasant monotony to make the time slip by unheeded.

Margot’s condition was now noticeable. We made full, loose garments for her and she would laugh at her reflection.

“Who would ever have believed could look like this?”

"Who would have believed you could have allowed yourself to,” I countered. Trust the prim and proper English cousin to point that out. Oh, Minelle, I do love you, you know. I love that astringent, way of yours . taking me down when I need it. It has not the slightest effect on me but I love it.”

“Margot,” I said, ‘sometimes I think you should be a little more serious. ”

Her face puckered suddenly.

“No, please don’t ask me to. It’s the baby, Minelle. Now that it’s moving, it seems to be real. It seems to be alive. “

It is real. It is alive. It always has been. ”

I know. But now it’s a person. What will happen when it’s born? “

“Your father explained. It will be sent away. It will have a foster mother.”

“And I shall never see it again.”

“You know that is what is intended.”

“It seemed an easy solution then, but lately … Well Minelle, I’m beginning to want it … to love it ” You will have to be brave, Margot. “

“I know.”

She said no more but I could see she was brooding. My feather-brained little Margot was realizing that she was about to become a mother. I was anxious and in a way would have preferred her to behave in her feather-brained, inconsequential manner, for if she were going to grieve for the child she would be very unhappy.

One day there was a rather unpleasant incident in the town which upset the pleasant tenor of the days. Margot did not often accompany me now, as she was getting too unwieldy and preferred to take exercise in the garden. I had bought ribbons to trim a gown for the baby and, as I emerged from the shop, a carriage came clattering by. It was an elegant vehicle drawn by two magnificent white horses. A young man stood at the back resplendent in livery the colour of peacock’s feathers trimmed with gold braid.

A group of boys standing at the street corner jeered at the young man and one of them threw a stone at him. He took no notice and the carriage went on.

The boys were chattering excitedly together. I heard the word “Aristocrats’ spat out contemptuously and remembered my talks with Joel Derringham.

Several people had come out to their shop doors and were shouting to each other.

“Did you see the fine carriage?”

“Yes, I saw it. And the haughty ones inside. Looking down their noses at us, eh? Did you see that?”

“I saw. Bat it will not always be so.”

“Down with them. Why should they live in luxury while we starve.”

I had seen no evidence of starvation in Petit Montlys but I did know that those who farmed a little land had difficulty in making a living.

The incident did not end there. Unfortunately the occupants of the carriage decided that they needed some of the cheeses which they must have glimpsed in one of the shops, and the young footman was sent to purchase them.

The sight of him, in his gorgeous uniform, was too much for the children. They ran after him shouting, trying to pull off the braid on his jacket.

He hurried into the cheese shop and the children stayed outside.

Monsieur Jourdain, the grocer, would be angry with them if they disturbed his customers, particularly those who could be expected to pay special prices. I was close by so I saw exactly what happened.

When the young man emerged from the shop about six boys leaped on him.

They snatched the cheeses from his hands and tore at his coat. In desperation he hit out at them and one boy went sprawling on the cobbles. There was blood on his cheek.

A cry of rage went up and the footman, who must have seen that he was hopelessly outnumbered, pushed his way through the melee of shouting children and ran.

I went quickly along the street and saw that the carriage was in the square. The young man shouted to the coachman and leaped on to the back of it. In a very short time it was clattering out of the square, but not before several people had run out of their houses shouting abuse for the aristocrats. Stones were flung after the retreating carriage and I was , glad when it was out of sight. C The baker had seen me. He must have left his baking to come and look.

“You are all right. Mademoiselle?” he asked. Yes, thank you. “

“You look distraite.”

That was rather horrible. “

“Oh yes. It happens. Wise people should not drive their carriages about the countryside.”

“How can they go otherwise?”

The poor go on foot. Mademoiselle. “

“But if one has a carriage …”

“It is sad that some should have carriages while of walk.”

“It has always been so.”

“It is not to say it always will be. The people are tired oi the differences. The rich are too rich … the poor too poor The rich care nothing for the poor, but soon, Mademoise they will be made to care.”

“And the carriage … whose was that?”

“Some lord, I don’t doubt. Let him enjoy his carriage ..” while he can. “

I went back thoughtfully to the house. As I came into cool hall I met Madame Gremond.

“Madame Ie Brun is resting?” she asked.

“Yes. She is beginning to feel the need to. I was glad she was not with me this afternoon. Something unpleasant happened.”

“Come into my salon and tell me,” she said.

It was cool in the room blinds drawn to shut out the sun. A little old-fashioned, I thought it, and very discreet with thick blue curtains and some beautiful Sevres china in the glass cabinet. There was an ornate ormolu clock in the wall. She had some fine objects here, I realized. Gifts, I thought, from a lover the Comte perhaps?

I told her about the incident.

“It happens often nowadays,” she said.

“If a carriage appears it is like a red rag to a bull. A fine carriage symbolizes wealth. I have not used mine for six months. It is foolish, but I fancy the people don’t like it.” She looked round the room and shivered.

“In the old days I would not have thought this possible. Times have changed and are changing fast.”

“Is it safe for us to go into the town?”

They wouldn’t harm you. It is the aristocrats they are against. France is not a happy country. There is much unrest. “

“We have troubles in England.”

“Ah, it is a changing world. Those who have had, may not have in the future. There is too much poverty in France. It breeds envy. Many of our rich people do much good but many are idle and do great harm.

There is a growing anger and envy throughout the country. I believe it is even more evident in Paris. What you saw this afternoon is a commonplace. “

“I hope I don’t see it again. There was murder in the air. I believe they would have killed that innocent young footman.”

“They would say he should not be working for the rich and that there was a good reason to attack him because he is an enemy of the people.”

“This is dangerous talk.”

“There is danger in the air. Mademoiselle. Coming so recently from England, you do not know of these matters. It must have been very different there. Did you live in the country?”

Yes. “And you have left your family … your friends .,. to be with your cousin?”

“Yes, yes. She needed someone with her.”

Madame Gremond nodded sympathetically. I felt she was trying to probe so I rose quickly.

“I must go to Madame Ie Brun. She will be wondering what has become of me.”

In her room Margot was lying on her bed and Jeanne was folding up baby garments which Margot clearly had been showing her.

Margot was saying: “Everywhere Pierre went there was Chon-Chon. Pierre would stride out with his gun and the dog at his heels. It was a large estate. One of the largest in the country,” “It must have belonged to a, very rich gentleman.”

“Very rich. Pierre was his right-hand man.”

A Duke, Madame? A Count? ” I said: ” Hello, how are you? “

Ah, my dear cousin, how I have missed you! I took the baby garments from Jeanne and put them in a drawer. Thank you, Jeanne,” I said and nodded, implying that I wished her to leave us. She curtsied and went out, ” You talk too much, Margot,” I said.

What am I to do? Sit and mope? “

You will say something you should not. “

I had a feeling then that someone was behind the door, listening. I went to it swiftly and opened it. No one was there but I fancied I heard the sound of running footsteps. I was sure Jeanne had intended to listen. I felt very uneasy.

What I had seen that afternoon in the town had set alarm bells ringing through my mind. The trouble in the country did not affect our private one. Yet the apprehension continued.

Margo's time was getting near. The baby was due at the end of August and it was now July. Madame Legere, the midwife had been sent for.

She was a cosy-looking woman like a cottage loaf in: shape, dressed in deep black the colour favoured by most of the women which somehow made her cheeks look,” rosier than they actually were. She had keen dark eyes and a faint line of hair about her mouth.

She declared Margot in a good state, carrying the baby just as she should.

“It’ll be a boy,” she said and added: “Like as not. I’m promising nothing. It’s just the way you’re carrying it.”

She called once a week and confided to me that she knew my cousin was a very special lady, by which I gathered that she had been paid rather more than she usually was to attend to her.

I felt then that a mystery was being created about us and I supposed that was inevitable. I was growing increasingly aware of the curious looks.

I did not mention that afternoon’s incident to Margot. I thought it better for her not to know. I remembered how hurriedly her father had left England on the night of the soiree. Since then I had learned something about that cause celebre, Queen Marie Antoinette’s necklace, that fabulous piece of jewellery made up of the finest diamonds in the world. I knew that Cardinal de Rohan, who had been duped into thinking that if he helped Marie Antoinette to procure the necklace she would become his mistress, had been arrested and then acquitted and that his acquittal was an implication that the Queen was guilty.

I had heard the Queen discussed slightingly everywhere in France. She was contemptuously called the Austrian Woman, and the country’s troubles were blamed on hen I did not need to be told that the affair of the necklace had not added one jot to the peace of the country. In fact it was almost like a match to dry wood.

It was a strange life. Tensions in the streets as I had seen when the carriage had rumbled past, and Margot and I living our strange shut-away lives during these months while we awaited the birth of her child.

Once when we were sitting in the garden she said: “Sometimes, Minelle, I can’t think beyond this place … and the baby’s coming. After that we are going to my home. It will either be to the country chateau or the hotel in Paris. I shall be light and willowy again. The baby will be gone. It will be as though this never happened.”

It can never be like that,” I said.

“We shall always remember. Particularly you. “

“I shall see my baby sometimes, Minelle. We must visit bin … you and I.”

“It will be forbidden, I am sure.”

Oh, it will be forbidden. My father said, “When the child-< is born, it will be given into the care of some good people I shall arrange that and you will never see it again. You will have to forget this ever happened. Never speak of it, but a the same time regard it as a lesson. Never let this happen again.”

He has gone to a great deal of trouble to help you. “

“Not to save me but to save my name from dishonour. I makes me laugh sometimes. I am not the only member o:

the family to have a bastard child. One does not have to loo! very far for others. “

“You must be sensible, Margot. What your father plans i without doubt best for you.”

“And never see my child again!”

“You should have thought of that before …”

“What do you know of these matters? Do you think that when you are in love, when someone has his arms about you you think about a nonexistent child!”

“I should have thought the possibility of that nonexist en child’s actually existing might have occurred to you.”

“Wait, Minelle, wait until you are in love.”

I made an impatient movement and she laughed. Then she moved awkwardly in her chair and went on: “It’s peaceful here. Do you find it so? It will be different at the chateau and in Paris. My father has the most luxurious residences They contain many treasures; but being here with you realize they lack the best thing of all. Peace.”

“Peace of mind,” I agreed.

“It is what wise people al way wish for.

Tell me about your life in your father’s mansions, “I have rarely been in Paris. When they went there I was often left in the country and spent most of my life then The chateau was built in the thirteenth century. The great tower the keep is what you see first. In the old days they used to be a ” Watch” in the tower which meant that there was always a man there and it was his duty to give was mine when an enemy approached. Even now we have a man ther and he gives a warning when guests are arriving by ringing a bell. It is one of the musicians and to pass the time he sings and composes songs. At night he descends and often sings for us those chansons de guettes, which you will know, of course, are watchman’s songs. It’s an old custom and my father clings to old customs as much as possible. I sometimes think he was born too late. He hates this new attitude of the people which we are beginning to see springing up everywhere. He says the serfs are becoming insolent to their masters.”

I was silent thinking of the recent incident in the town.

Quite a number of castles are of a much later date than ours,” went on Margot.

“Francois Premier built the chateaux of the Loire a good two hundred years after ours was set up. Of course ours has been restored and added to. There is the great staircase which is as old as any part of the building. This leads up to the part of the castle which we occupy. Right at the top of the staircase is a platform. Years ago the lords of the castle used to administer justice from the platform. My father still uses it, and if there is a dispute among any of the people on the estate they are summoned to the platform and my father passes judgement. It is exactly as it used to be done. At the foot of the staircase is a great courtyard and it is there they used to joust and tilt. Now we hold plays there in the summer and if there is a festival or something of that nature it takes place there. Oh, talking of it brings it all back so clearly and, Minelle, I’m frightened. I’m frightened of what is going to happen when we leave here.”

“We’ll face it when it comes,” I said.

“Tell me about the people who live in the castle.”

“My parents you know. Poor Maman is very often ill or pretends to be.

My father hates illness. He doesn’t believe in it. He thinks it’s something people fancy. Poor Maman is very unhappy. It is something to do with having me instead of a boy and then not being able to have any more. “

“It must have been a disappointment to a man like the Comte not to have a son.”

“Isn’t it maddening, Minelle, the way they want boys … always boys. In our country a girl cannot come to the throne. You in England don’t go as far as that.”

No, as I have always taught you, two of the greatest periods of English history were when queens were on the throne. Elizabeth and Anne. “

“Yes, it’s one of the few things I remember from your history lessons.

You always looked so fierce when you said that. Waving the flag for our sex. “

“Of course both of them were blessed with clever ministers.”

“Well, do you want to give a history lesson or hear about my family?”

I shall be interested to hear about your family. ” :

“I have told you about my father and mother and you know how ill-assorted they are. It was an arranged marriage when my mother was sixteen and my father seventeen. They saw very little of each other before the wedding. That’s how things are arranged in families like ours, and it was considered a most suitable match. Of course it was as unsuitable as it possibly could be. Poor Maman! She is the one I am sorry for. My father would naturally find consolation else-” J where. ” , ” And that is what he did? “

“Naturally. He had had his adventures before marriage. I;

wonder why he can be so shocked over me. Not that he really was. As I said, it wasn’t what I had done but that I i had been found out. It’s all right for serving girls and members of the lower classes generally to have a bastard, or two (in fact it is often their duty if the lord of the castle takes a fancy to them) but not, oh certainly not, for the daughter of the great family. So you see there is one law for the rich and one for the poor and this time it works against us. “

“Be serious, Margot. I want to learn something about the people at the castle before I go there. ” ” Very well. I’m leading up to that. I was going to tell you, about Etienne-the crop of my father’s earliest wild oat; Etienne lives at the chateau. He is my father’s son. “

“I thought you said there was no son.”

“Minelle, you are being obtuse. He is my father’s illegitimate son. Papa was only sixteen when Etienne was born.

How hej can dare Sit in judgement on me I don’t know. Not only is!

there one law for the rich and one for the poor, but one for men and one for women. I was born a year after my parent’s marriage. My mother suffered terribly and nearly died. However, both she and I managed to survive the ordeal of my getting born but the result was that to have another child would endanger her life. So there was my father-who had had everything he wanted in life up to that time-at the age of eighteen, head of a noble house, faced with the fact that he would never have a son. And of course what every man wants especially one who has a great name to preserve -is a son, and not only one, for he must be doubly sure. “

That must have been a great blow. “

“It was not as though he loved my mother. I always thought that if she had stood up to him a little he might have thought more of her. She never did, though. She always avoided him and they saw very little of each other. She spends most of her time in her rooms waited on by NouNou, her old nurse, who defends her like a dragon breathing fire, and even daring to stand up to Papa. But I must tell you about Etienne.”

Yes, do tell me about Etienne. “

Naturally I wasn’t there at the time but I have heard servants talk.

It was considered amusing that my father should have shown his virility at such an early age. Etienne came into the world to a flourish of trumpets metaphorically speaking-and has had a very high opinion of himself ever since. He is cast in the same mould as my father-which is not surprising since he is his son. Well, when it was known that my father could have no more children and the hopes of a legitimate son were no more, my father brought Etienne to the chateau and he was treated like a legitimate son. He has been educated as such and is often with my father. Everyone knows that he is a bastard and that infuriates him, but he hopes to inherit the estates if not the title. He can be very moody and has outbursts of temper which terrify people. If my mother died and my father married again I don’t know what Etienne would do. “

I can see how unfair he would consider that. “

“Poor Etienne! He is my father all over again … but not quite. You know how it is with people who are not quite what they wish to be. Etienne flaunts his nobility, if you know what I mean. I have seen him whip a young boy who called him the Bastard. But he is very attractive. The girls in the servants’ quarters will verify that. Etienne is a Count in a ways except that his mother was not married to his father and he is so determined that no one shall remember that that he can’t forget it himself. Oh and then … Leon.”

“Another man?”

“Leon’s case is very different. Leon has no need to whip sma boys. He is no bastard. He was born in holy wedlock. H parents were peasants and it would be no use his trying t pretend otherwise, even if he wanted to, for everyone know it. Leon, though, has received the same education as Etienn and no one would guess he was the son of peasants if the did not know it. Leon therefore has an air of nobility which sits easily on him and he would laugh if anyone called nil Peasant. To see Leon in his fine velvet jacket and buck ski breeches you would say he was an aristocrat. Which prove of course, that where a man is brought up can have fa more effect on him than who his parents were. “

I have always been inclined to believe that. But tell m more of Leon. Why is he at the chateau?

“It is rather a romantic story. He came to the chateau when he was six. I was too young to remember. Actually it was soon after I was born and my father had just realized that m mother could have no more children. He was very angry . bitter against a fate which had married him to a woman will had become barren after the birth of her first child . daughter . and then had had the temerity to go on living “Margot!”

“Dear Minelle, are we speaking the truth or not? If m mother had died when I was born my father would have married again after a suitable interval and I might have had numerous half-sisters and what is all-important, brothers Then my little peccadillo might not have been so important But Maman went on living … most inconsiderate of the . and Papa was a prisoner of a kind … caught by a crue fate, trapped, married to a woman who could be of no use ti him.”

This is no way to talk of your parents. “

“Very well. I will tell you they are devoted to each other. He never leaves her side. All his thoughts are for her. I that what you want?”

“Don’t be silly, Margot. Naturally I want the truth, bu tempered with respect.”

“How amusing you are I It is not a matter of respect but to tell you how things stand. That’s what you asked for, did you not? Do you want to hear or don’t you?”

“I want to know as much as possible about the chateau before I go there.”

“Then don’t expect to hear fairy tales. My father is no charming prince, I do assure you. When he knew that he was saddled with a barren wife he was so angry that he took his horse and rode it till it dropped with exhaustion. Riding madly like that seemed to be the way he gave an outlet to his fury. The household was glad to get him out of the way for woe betide any of them who angered him. The people used to call him the Devil on Horseback and when they saw him kept out of the way.”

I was startled because that was the name I had given him when I had first seen him. It fitted him absolutely.

“Sometimes,” went on Margot, “Papa travelled in his cabriolet which he drove himself using the most spirited horses in his stables. This was more dangerous than when he rode his horse, and one day he was riding in this wild and reckless fashion through the village of Lapine, which was about ten kilos from the chateau, when he ran over a child and killed it.”

“How dreadful!”

“I think he was sorry.”

“I should hope he was.”

It brought him to his senses, I think. But let me tell you about Leon. He is the twin brother of the boy who was killed. The mother was nearly demented. She so far forgot what she owed her overlord that she came to the castle and tried to stab him. He overpowered her easily.

He could have had her executed for attempted murder but he didn’t. “

“How good of him!” I said with sarcasm.

“I suppose he realized that she was merely attempting to do to him what he did to her child.”

“Exactly. However, he talked to her. He told her he deeply regretted his action and he understood her desire for revenge. He would try to atone. The dead boy had a twin brother. And she had … how many children was it? I forget. About ten. He would recompense her for the loss of the child by giving her a purse which would be commensurate with what her ;

would have earned for her had he lived for sixty years. T was not all.

He would take the boy’s twin and he should brought up in the chateau as a member of the household. This the terrible accident could be turned into a stroke of go fortune for the family. “

I don’t see how anything could make up for the loss the child. “

You do not know these peasants. Their children mean much money to them. They have so many that they ci spare one without too much regret. particularly when I loss is going to bring great rewards. “

I am unconvinced. “

“Then, dear Minelle, you must remain so. The fact is this besides Etienne the Bastard we have Leon the Peasant, acfl let me tell you this: If I had not explained the situation you would never have guessed the origins of either.”

“It is an unusual household.”

That made Margot laugh.

“Until I came to England and I the orderly manners of Derringham Hall and how that whitj is unpleasant is never mentioned and therefore presumed n

“You saw only the surface. We all have our problems. l that easy-to-live-in schoolhouse there was often the question of whether we should be able to pay our way and that question became acute during my last weeks there.”

“I know, and to that very state of affairs perhaps I owe void presence here, so does it not show that there is always goof in everything that happens? If the school had been flourishing you would not have left it and I should be alone. But f< my father’s youthful indiscretion Etienne would not be the chateau and if he had not ridden in fury through Lap Leon would have been trying to grub a living out of earth and often going to bed hungry. Isn’t that a com for thought?”

“Your philosophy is a lesson to us all, Margot.” I pleased to see her in such good spirits, but talking of chateau had tired her and I insisted that she drink her time milk and talk no more that night.

II

At the beginning of August Madame Legere moved in. She occupied a small room close to Margot’s and her coming reminded both Margot and me vividly that the interlude was nearing its end. I think neither of us wanted it to be over. This was a strange feeling but these waiting months had been important to us both. We had, as was to be expected, grown closer together; and I think she was pleased, as I was, that when this was over we were not going to part. How she would react to giving up her baby I could not imagine, for as its birth became imminent she had taken a great interest in it and I was afraid was beginning to be stirred by maternal love. It was natural enough, but since she was to give up the child, rather sad.

During those waiting months I had looked back over the past and yearned to be able to talk of the future with my mother. When I contemplated what my life would have been if I had stayed in the schoolhouse I could feel no regret for what I had done. I could see myself becoming more and more uneasy and perhaps in desperation turning to the Mansers and marrying Jim. At the same time I felt I had plunged into a dark passage and was heading towards a future which I could not envisage. Adventure lay before me-the chateau, the Comte and his unusual household. I could only look forward to that with a tingling excitement while I was glad of the waiting period.

Madame Legere had taken Margot over completely. She was always with her and even when we endeavoured to be alone for a brief respite it would not be long before the plump little creature would come bustling in wanting to know what “Petit Maman was doing.

“Petit Maman’ was amused at first by the appellation but after a few days she declared she would scream if Madame Legere did not stop it.

But Madame Legere went her own way. She made it clear that she was in charge, for if she were not how could we be sure that Baby would make an easy entrance into the world and “Petit Maman’ come through without disaster?

It was obvious that we had to endure Madame Legere.

She liked a glass of brandy and kept a bottle handy. I;l suspected she had frequent nips, but as she was never the, worse for it, that seemed nothing to worry about. “If I had as many bottles of brandy as I’ve brought babies into the world,” she said, “I’d be a rich woman.”

“Or a wine merchant or a dipsomaniac,” I could not help adding, ‘y She was unsure of me. I had heard her refer to me as The English Cousin’ as though I were an enemy. I would sit in my room sometimes trying to read but l could always hear Madame Legere’s penetrating voice, ant having by this time grown accustomed to the accent of the neighbourhood I could follow conversations with ease. g Jeanne was always in attendance and she and Madam Legere vied with each other in talking, although Madame Legere was very often the winner, in view, I imagined, of her superior position in the household. I told Margot that she should send them away but she said their chatter amuse

“Oh Madame Legere,” squealed Jeanne.