Lavinia was not subtle in conversation and Janine was too clever for her. She nearly always lost in these verbal battles. But she continued with her wooing of the dancing master.

She was the best dancer and the most outstanding beauty of the school—or certainly the most flamboyant one. She was now at the zenith of her youth. Eighteen years old, full-hipped, full-bosomed, with the tiniest of waists. Sometimes she wore her hair hanging down her back, caught back by a bow of ribbon; sometimes she piled it high on her head with little tendrils nestling against her white neck. Hardly anyone could stop taking a second glance at Lavinia.

One day Janine came in bursting with excitement. She waited until Lavinia was with us until she spoke of what was amusing her.

She had followed Monsieur Dubois to his home. She had waited for him and kept a safe distance. She saw his home, his wife and four children; she overheard the greeting between him and his wife, for Janine spoke fluent French. They embraced, she said, like lovers who had been separated for months. "How was it today, Henri?" "Oh, not bad ... not bad at all, my cabbage." "How many silly girls were chasing you today?" "Oh ... the usual. It is always so. Such a bore. You must bear with it, my angel. I must keep the little girls happy. It is a nothing ... all in the matter of the work, eh."

"I don't believe it," said Lavinia hotly.

Janine shrugged her shoulders, as though it were immaterial to her whether Lavinia believed her or not.

Janine sought me out.

"You're different from the others," she said. "They are silly frivolous nonentities, most of them. As for your friend Lavinia, I don't know how you endure her."

"I've known her all my life."

"Far too long," commented Janine.

"Her mother pays some of my fees. My father couldn't afford to send me here. You are right in saying I am different from the others. I am, I am not rich and destined for a grand marriage."

"Thank your lucky stars for that."

Janine had a way of ferretting our secrets. I was often amazed at myself for being so frank with her. She was an avid listener—rare among self-centred girls. I was soon giving her a picture of Lady Harriet and our village.

"Spoilt brat," she commented of Lavinia.

"Lady Harriet sees herself and everything connected with her as perfect, and that includes her daughter."

"She must be mentally blind. Lavinia hasn't much above the neck beyond her curly hair and her pretty face."

"I suppose that makes up for a good deal."

"She is too ... physical for her own good. It wouldn't surprise me if she got herself into some mess sooner or later. She's so blatant about men. Look at the way she throws herself at Monsieur Dubois."

"She didn't like what you said about him and his wife. Was it true?"

She looked at me and laughed. "In a way," she said.

"So you made it up!"

"I'm sure it goes something like that. I've seen them in the market together. They are very devoted. He must be bored with silly romantic girls throwing themselves at him; and she must be grateful to have such a desirable husband."

Janine confided to me about herself. I was not sure whether I believed her. The story, according to her, was quite romantic. She was the illegitimate offspring of two people in very high places. She hinted at royalty.

"They couldn't marry, you see. He ... my father ... was to make a very grand marriage for political reasons. That is how it is with the royals. My mother was a lady of the Queen's Bedchamber. She, too, was to marry into high circles. However, I happened. I was born in a clinic run by the woman whom I call Aunt Emily. She is not my aunt at all, but I was brought up there and always called her Aunt Emily. I was to have the best education. It was paid for by my parents, but I was meant to believe that I owed everything to Aunt Emily. Aunt Emily has close connections with the Court. She is known to be discreet. People come to her ... if they don't want it known ..."

I said it was very interesting, while only half believing it. I could not imagine why, but I felt sorry for her. I fancied she was always trying to prove something to herself. She was not very popular with the other girls, and as, after all, she was one of the quartet that shared our room, I seemed to be with her more than anyone else.

It was a week or so after our return to Lamason ... a lovely golden September afternoon. We had gone into the town on the wagon and then dispersed, going our various ways. We were at the patisserie. There were myself, Janine, Lavinia and a girl called Marie Dallon. We had chosen our cakes and had seated ourselves under one of the sunshades. Charles, the garcon, had brought our coffee.

We were laughing together when a man strolled by. He paused to look at us. He half smiled. Lavinia immediately responded, for, a little mature, he was very good looking in a dark, rather Italianate way. I noticed how his eyes rested on Lavinia; but there was nothing unusual in that.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Forgive me. I was so enchanted. I heard your laughter and I saw you all sitting there ... looking so happy. It is unforgivable of me ... but please forgive me."

"You are forgiven," said Lavinia, flashing a smile at him.

"Then I am indeed happy."

I thought he would bow and pass on, but he did not. He was still looking at Lavinia.

"Tell me," he went on, "are you not the young ladies from the chateau?"

"You are right," cried Lavinia.

"I have seen girls from the chateau in the past. Today I have just arrived here ... on my way to Paris. And I see that it is just the same. I rejoice. There are still young ladies from the chateau and ... they grow more enchanting than ever. I would make a request."

We looked at him enquiringly.

"It is that I may be allowed to stay here ... just for a little moment ... so that I may continue to look at you ... and perhaps talk a little."

Janine, Marie and I looked at each other a trifle uneasily. Heaven knew what would be the result if we were discovered in conversation with a strange man. It would be disastrous, quite outside the laws of Lamason; and the mistress who had brought us might appear at any moment.

But Lavinia was saying, "If you can become invisible when our dragon of a mistress comes into sight, do. You will have to stop talking to us if she comes along. Then we can say you are just someone who sat here after we had been served with our coffee, so we could not move away."

"How delightfully devious!" He sat down. The garcon came and he ordered coffee.

"I think we are safe," said Lavinia, leaning her arms on the table and studying him intently. Her very attitude was inviting.

"I shall be watchful and at the first appearance of the dragon I shall summon my magical powers and become invisible."

Lavinia laughed, throwing back her head and displaying perfect teeth.

"Now you must tell me about the Chateau Lamason. Are the rules there very strict?"

"In a way ... but not as bad as school," said Lavinia.

"For which you are very grateful?"

"Oh yes," I said. "It enables us to come into the town like this."

"And meet interesting people," added Lavinia, smiling at him.

We talked. He asked a good many questions about us and the school, and in return he told us that he was the Comte de Borgasson. His chateau was some fifty miles from here. It was one of those which had escaped the Revolution.

"Like Lamason," I put in.

"Yes ... that is so." He gave me a grave smile, but he could not for long keep his eyes from Lavinia.

During that first encounter he established himself as an aristocrat with a castle some fifty miles away, a large estate which included vineyards. He was young, unmarried; his father had just died and he had inherited the title and large estates.

"My student days are over," he said. "I have to be serious now."

It was quite an adventure. I was sure Lavinia had enjoyed it, particularly as he had shown so clearly that she was the one among us who held his attention.

When we saw Mademoiselle coming towards us we all rose innocently, murmured goodbye to our handsome companion and joined the others at the wagon.

I saw Lavinia look around as I clambered in. I saw the Comte lift his hand. Lavinia was smiling secretly as we drove back to the chateau.

We saw the Comte the next time we went into town, and he took coffee with us in the same way as he had before. There was a great deal of lighthearted chatter. This time he sat next to Lavinia.

Perhaps because I knew her so well I guessed she had a secret. She often disappeared and we were not sure where she was. She was very absentminded and seemed no longer aware of the charms of Monsieur Dubois. She danced with a kind of abandon, but she never sought to make him choose her, as she had in the past, by moving a little forward and flicking back the hair from her face.

I did not see the Comte again, and I forgot about him until one day I met him near the chateau. He smiled at me in a rather absentminded way, as though he were trying to remember who I was. I was not surprised, for during our encounters he had had eyes for no one but Lavinia.

She continued in a kind of euphoric mood. She was less querulous, and would often sit twirling a lock of her hair, staring into space and smiling.

I asked her one day what was happening.