Текст книги "Zipporah's Daughter"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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‘I think I already do. How much longer does this dance go on?’

‘A little while yet, I hope. You are a very attractive young lady, Mademoiselle Lottie.’

‘I would rather not hear you talk to me like that.’

‘I was only telling the truth. When you grow up you are going to be irresistible, I know.’

‘I do hope Sophie is not going to be unhappy but I very much fear for her.’

‘I promise you that she is going to be the happiest bride in Paris.’

‘With you visiting Madame Rougemont? What when she discovers?’

‘She will never discover. I shall see to that, and it will be precisely because there will be some others to charm me and satisfy my baser instincts that I can be a figure of chivalric love to my bride.’

‘I think you are the most cynical man I ever met!’

‘Call it realistic. I don’t know why I am telling you the truth. It is not very flattering to me, is it? Oddly enough I have to tell you. But then you found me out, didn’t you? We found each other out. No use trying to cover up our sins after such blatant exposure. Still, I like you to know the truth about me. I have grown very fond of you, Lottie.’

‘When?’

‘Well, it began when I looked through a peephole and saw one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen gazing into a crystal ball. A tall dark handsome man, said Madame Rougemont. Well, she was right, wasn’t she?’

‘Are you trying to flirt with me?’

‘You do invite it, you know.’

‘I think Sophie should be warned.’

‘Will you warn her? She won’t believe you. Besides, who are you to talk? What if I told of my first meeting with you in Madame Rougemont’s brothel? You would be in trouble then, wouldn’t you?’

‘And so would you. They would surely want to know how you happened to be there.’

‘So you see we are both caught in our particular web of intrigue. Dear Lottie, I do believe those wretched musicians are reaching their finale. I shall dance with you again this evening and then we will talk of more pleasant things. Alas … it is au revoir.’

He released me and bowed; then he gave me his arm and took me back to Madame de Grenoir.

I felt very disturbed and in a strange way excited. More than anyone I had ever met he reminded me of Dickon.

Madame de Grenoir chattered about the Tourvilles. ‘A noble family … not like the Aubignes, of course … but wealthy enough. They have a château somewhere near Angouleme and a hôtel in Paris like most noble families. It is an excellent match, and he is a charming young man, is he not?’

I found it difficult to sit there and listen to her and was glad to be dancing again. I was looking out for him all the time and once or twice I saw him; then he gave me a smile and flashed a message at me with his eyes which I was sure meant that he would be with me as soon as he could.

The time came and there I was dancing with him again.

‘This is the highlight of the evening for me,’ he said. ‘You don’t quite look so angry as you did. Have you thought better of it?’

‘I still think badly of you.’

‘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.’

‘What about the fireworks display?’ I asked.

‘Oh, that is going to be later … in Paris. In a week or so, I imagine. There was so much disappointment about it. It has to take place or the people will feel they have been cheated. What do you think? The little Dauphine made a blot on the marriage contract as she signed her name. The King seemed quite amused.’

‘They will be saying that is an omen,’ said Armand. ‘What with the storm and the blot … they’ll really have something to work on. And wasn’t there an earthquake somewhere on the day Marie Antoinette was born?’

‘In Lisbon,’ said my father. ‘What has Lisbon to do with France? The people will like her. Oh yes, they will cheer her, for she is very pretty.’

‘And that counts for a great deal with the French,’ I put in, which made them all laugh.

Then my mother went on to describe the reception presided over by the King.

‘How old he is getting!’ She sighed. ‘It is a good thing that there is a Dauphin to follow on.’

‘A pity the boy is not older and more of a man,’ added the Comte.

‘Boys grow up,’ my mother reminded him.

‘Some take a long time doing it.’

‘Oh, it was so beautiful,’ went on my mother. ‘Although it was so dark outside it was as light as day in the Galerie. I don’t know how many candelabra there were and each had thirty candles. I counted them. The young people looked adorable sitting at the table which was covered with green velvet decorated with gold braid and beautifully fringed. You should have been there. As a matter of fact the people were so disappointed because of the cancellation of the fireworks display that they were determined to see something and broke into the Palace. They stormed up to the Galerie and mingled with the guests.’ She turned to my father. ‘Do you know, at one time, I felt rather frightened.’

‘No need to be on such an occasion,’ my father answered. ‘The people are pleased about the wedding. As a matter of fact, they are quite fond of the Dauphin and are longing for the King to die so that his grandson can take his place. They long to turn du Barry out on the streets, and as soon as the King dies that is what they will do.’

‘I heard the Dauphiness made a little gaffe which is amusing the whole court and beyond,’ said Armand. ‘When she saw the du Barry close to the King she was interested and asked what was the function of the beautiful lady. “To amuse the King”, was the answer. “Then”, said our little girl, so anxious to please her new Papa, “I shall be her rival”.’

Everyone laughed.

‘There was a shocked silence,’ the Comte said. ‘But Louis knows exactly how to deal with such situations in whatever else he fails, and all agree that he has the most gracious manners at Court. He patted the hand of the little Dauphiness and said he was delighted that she had become his little granddaughter, and poor Marie Antoinette was quite unaware of the social error she had committed.’

‘She won’t be for long,’ said Armand.

‘Well,’ added my mother, smiling at Sophie, ‘weddings are in the air. I wish the greatest happiness to the brides and their grooms.’

The date of the fireworks display had now been announced. It was to take place in the Place Louis XV and already workmen were busy setting lamps along the Champs Elysées; and in the Place Louis XV itself, a Corinthian temple was being put up near the King’s statue.

It was exciting to be in the streets during those May days. People who had goods to sell were making the most of the occasion. The well-known markets were busy and new ones had been set up wherever it was possible to do so. Salesmen and women were everywhere; medallions of the royal bride and groom were on sale with the flags of France and Austria; at every street corner there was a coffee woman, and lemonade-sellers who seemed to be doing a good trade with the thirsty people of Paris as well as those who had come into the city from the surrounding country.

It was impossible not to be caught up in the mood, and as the sun was shining after the great storm, it was good to be out.

Charles suggested that the four of us take a stroll down the Champs-Elysées to see how the decorations were progressing. Then we could wander into the Place Louis XV to take a look at the much talked-of Corinthian temple. The people would be amusing in any case.

So Charles, Armand, Sophie and I set out that morning.

We were all full of high spirits. Armand was quite amusing in his cynical way although he said he hated the people– ‘the unwashed’, he called them. He said the smell of them offended him. He was a very fastidious gentleman.

Charles warned him. ‘Don’t let them see your contempt, my dear fellow. Even on such a day as this, with all their loyalty to the crown they could easily take offence.’

Sophie was radiant, but my feelings were mixed. I was elated because I enjoyed Charles’s company so much and I kept telling myself that when they were married they would go to his estates in the south and I should not see them very often. That would be good, because I did not really like the man.

But that morning I was determined to enjoy myself.

We strolled along. A band was playing somewhere. From a building fluttered the flags of France and Austria, reminding the people that the country now had a reliable ally through this marriage, which would mean more to France than the happiness of two young people.

We strolled down the Champs-Elysées. It was going to look beautiful tonight with all those lamps aglow. In the Place Louis XV figures of dolphins were being set up and there was the grand medallion of the Dauphin and his bride. I stood beneath the bronze statue of the King on horseback surrounded by figures representing Prudence, Justice, Force and Peace.

Charles was beside me. ‘You look good there, sister Lottie,’ he said. ‘Tell me, are you prudent, just, forceful and peace-loving?’

‘Perhaps I have not lived long enough to discover.’

‘A very wise answer,’ he commented. ‘It is not always easy to be prudent and just, and if your are going to show force can you be peaceful?’

‘I suppose one must aim to have these qualities.’

‘As long as one tries perhaps that is good enough. It is not always possible to succeed though, is it? You are looking at me severely, Lottie. I don’t know why you do that so often, when you know you really like me very much.’

Sophie was coming towards us and I saw the watchful look in her eye. There was a hint of the distrust she had always had of herself before the coming of Charles.

‘We were talking about the statues,’ I said, ‘and Charles was saying how difficult it was to have the four qualities they represent.’

Charles took her by the arm. ‘Come, Sophie,’ he said, ‘let us look at them more closely and you tell me what you think of the workmanship. It was Pigalle, I think … but I’m not sure.’

He drew her away from me and was smiling into her face with such love that she was completely satisfied.

When we left the Place Louis XV we walked leisurely home and on the way we passed a stall on which several kinds of ornaments were displayed. Among them were some delicately fashioned flowers in silk. The colours were beautiful and Sophie gave a cry of admiration.

‘Why,’ she said, ‘that is just the colour of my lavender gown.’

‘I believe you really like it,’ said Charles. He picked it up and held it against her dress. ‘Enchanting,’ he went on, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. The saleswomen—there were two of them—applauded. Charles gave them one of his quick speculative glances which I noticed he bestowed on women, and these two were young and one quite pretty.

‘My lady must have it, do you not think so?’ he asked.

The two women laughed and said the lady had a very kind admirer.

Charles paid for the flower and handed it to Sophie. She looked so happy as she took it that I felt a little lump in my throat. I hoped fervently that she would always remain in blissful ignorance of the kind of man he was.

He had picked up another flower. It was a red peony—a most lovely shade of scarlet.

He held it against my hair.

‘What do you think?’ he asked the salesgirls.

‘A beautiful flower for a beautiful young lady,’ said the elder of them.

‘I agree,’ said Charles. ‘Don’t you, Sophie?’

Sophie stammered: ‘Y … yes … yes …’ But I saw the uneasy look in her eyes again and I wanted to say that I would not have the flower. But that would have made the whole matter too important, so I took the flower and thanked Charles.

Then we made our way home, but I felt a little of the joy had gone out of the morning for Sophie.

I wished I could warn her that she must not show jealousy, for Charles was the kind of man who would be irritated by it. Her only happiness lay in taking what came her way and being grateful for it, not to ask questions, not to probe, to shut her eyes to what was not meant for her to see. Then she would have a chance of being happy—and only then.

How could I tell her that? How could I tell her that I spoke from experience of what her fiancé was really like?

I did, however, try to show her that I did not treasure my flower as she did hers. I had an opportunity when Lisette came to my room as she was in the habit of doing—although lately I had seen less of her.

Sophie was with me, wearing the flower pinned to her dress and Lisette noticed it at once.

‘It’s lovely,’ cried Lisette. ‘I believe artificial silk flowers are becoming very fashionable.’

‘Charles bought it for me,’ Sophie explained. ‘From a stall in the street.’

‘You’re a lucky girl. He does dote on you, doesn’t he?’

Sophie smiled happily. ‘We were walking along and came to this stall. Nothing else on it caught my fancy but the flowers … they were very pretty.’

Lisette examined it. ‘It is so cleverly made,’ she said.

‘He bought one for Lottie.’

‘He had to … because I was there with Armand,’ I explained quickly.

‘Where is yours?’

‘I put it somewhere. I forget where …. Wait a minute. I think it’s here.’

I wanted to convey to Sophie that it meant nothing to me that Charles had given it.

I brought out the flower.

‘What a lovely rich colour!’ said Lisette.

‘I don’t think it will go with anything I wear.’

‘Nonsense. Red is one of your best colours. It makes you look darker and passionate.’

‘What rubbish.’

I took the flower from her and threw it into a drawer.

Sophie looked relieved. She could never disguise her emotion. Dear Sophie, she was so easy to deceive. Surely that arch-deceiver whom she was to marry would manage with the utmost ease.

All was well. Sophie had a good chance of achieving the happy marriage which was so necessary for her.

It was about two days after the incident of the flowers when Charles called at the hôtel. Sophie had gone with my mother to the dressmaker to discuss her trousseau, so when Charles called it aroused no comment that I should be the one to receive him.

He seized both my hands and kissed them.

‘Lottie!’ he cried. ‘How glad I am to find you alone!’

‘Was it accident or design?’

‘A bit of both,’ he admitted. ‘I believe Sophie is at the dressmaker with your Mama.’

‘You are well informed.’

‘It’s a good habit in life. Now I want to take you some– where. I have something to show you and you will really want to see it.’

‘Where would you take me?’

‘Only for a walk through the streets, I promise you.’

‘A walk? But why … ?’

‘You will see. Come, get your cloak. We haven’t a great deal of time.’

‘Were you going to show this to Sophie?’

‘Certainly not. There is no reason why she should be particularly interested.’

‘Then why … ?’

‘Curb your curiosity and hurry. I don’t want us to be too late. I promise to have you back in the house within an hour.’

He had succeeded in exciting me as he always did.

‘All right,’ I agreed. ‘But it is only to walk in the streets.’

‘That is all … on my honour.’

‘I am glad to know that you possess some.’

‘I am always known to be a man of my word.’

What harm was there? I was not allowed to go out alone, but I would be under the protection of one who was soon to be a member of the family. He would not dare behave in any but a reputable way. He was considerably in awe of my father and it had become clear to me that the Tourvilles wanted this marriage very much. So I put on my cloak and we went into the streets.

I was unprepared for what he had brought me to see and when I heard the sound of drums I was surprised and interested because a crowd of people had gathered. They were laughing; some cheered, some jeered.

‘It’s a procession of some sort,’ I said.

‘You wait,’ said Charles. ‘You’ll see an old friend of yours.’

He gripped me firmly by the arm, for the crowds were pressing round us and when they were too close he put an arm about me to protect me, I could not protest because I could see that the gesture was necessary. But I did feel an intense excitement as I was held close to him.

Then I saw. First came the drummer and with him a sergeant who carried a pike. Following these two was a groom leading a donkey and seated on this donkey, her face turned towards its tail, a crown of plaited straw on her head, was Madame Rougemont. There was a large placard hanging round her neck and painted on it in startling red letters was the word PROCURESS.

She sat there impassive—her face that mask I had seen before – white lead and carmine. Her head-dress had slipped a little but it had been elaborate. I did not understand half of what the crowd was yelling at her but it was mostly bawdy comment on her profession.

My eyes were fixed on Madame Rougemont, who sat the donkey with an air of unconcern, looking straight ahead of her with a certain dignity which I could not help admiring. I was expecting someone to pull her off the donkey at any moment, but no one did; and the crowd really was quite good-humoured. The drummer went on beating his drum and someone broke into a song which the rest of the crowd took up.

‘I can’t hear the words,’ I said to Charles.

‘That is just as well,’ he answered with a grin.

Then he took me by the arm. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘That is enough.’

‘You brought me here just to see that, didn’t you?’

‘I took you out because I enjoy your company and I know you do mine. That was an extra pleasure.’

‘Not much of a pleasure for Madame Rougemont.’

‘I think it happened to her once before.’

‘It did not make her give up her profession.’

‘Good Heavens, no! It would take a great deal more than that to make such a good business woman give up such a profitable profession.’

‘How shameful to be paraded through the streets like that … with everyone knowing …’