“They are at the chateau,” he said. “The Comte’s vendange is usually a week or so later than ours; we are a little more exposed to the sun here and that means we start earlier. This year he has decided to begin at the same time—hence, he has ordered the workers who usually come to us, to go to him.”

“Do you mean to say that those who have been coming to you for years, just go when he beckons them?”

“It is the Comte, you see. He expects complete obedience.”

“But what of their loyalty to you?”

“I don’t blame them. They have been commanded and they have to go.”

”How mean of him!”

“He wants us all to realize that he is the master here. Most of this land belongs to him. There is only mine and of course Villers-Mure which is beyond his jurisdiction. But he likes to remind us of his power.”

“Can’t you explain to him that you must have those men?”

”I would not dream of asking favours of him. We will manage without.”

“Can we?”

“I think we shall do what we have to.”

My father set about reorganizing the workers; and then the second blow fell. He used wooden horse-drawn carts to transport the workers from place to place and one of these was involved in an accident. The horse bolted, jumped a hedge, broke a leg and overturned the cart, injuring four of the workers.

The horse had to be shot; the foreman had broken a leg, one of the workers an arm and others suffered from cuts and bruises.

My father was in despair. “It would seem,” he said, “that there is a curse on the vendange.”

Then the unexpected happened. While my father—in the depth of despair—was trying to reorganize everything, a cart arrived with ten men—some of them the itinerant workers who had deserted us at the Comte’s command.

I saw the cart arrive and hurried down to see what had happened now. My father came and joined me.

One of the men stepped down from the cart.

He said: “The compliments of Monsieur le Comte. He has heard of your ill luck and he has sent us to work for you while you need us.”

My father stared incredulously. “But …” he stammered, “I don’t understand. And why did you desert me in the first place?”

“The orders of Monsieur le Comte, Monsieur St. Allengere. We could not disobey them. But now he has sent us. He has heard of the accident and wishes to help you. When we have finished here we are to return to the chateau for his vendange.”

My father’s emotions were mixed. I could see that he was fighting with himself. He wanted to refuse the Comte’s offer, but the sight of those men and what they could do for him was too much, and his common sense prevailed over his pride. Here was a chance to save the wine harvest and it would be folly on his part to refuse it.

He murmured: “It is good of the Comte.”

“We’ll get to work immediately, Monsieur St. Allengere.”

They scrambled down. They did not need instructions. They knew exactly what to do.

I followed my father into the house. I laid my hand on his arm. “So all will be well?”

“I cannot understand his motives.”

“He is sorry. He has heard of the accident. He knows all the difficulties. I daresay he is sympathetic.”

“You don’t know the man. We are rivals. I am sure he would be delighted if my harvest was a failure.”

“Perhaps you misjudge him.”

My father shook his head. “He has his reasons, I daresay. He always has his reasons.”

Katie had come up and was listening with that single-mind-edness which was a habit of hers.

“Is he really an ogre?” she asked.

My father nodded grimly.

“I’d love to see him. He lives in that castle. Is he a giant?”

“There aren’t any giants now, Katie,” I reminded her.

Katie looked disappointed. ”Does he eat people?” she asked.

“In a manner of speaking,” replied my father.

“Oh, let’s forget him,” I said. “We have a complete work force now and can go ahead.”

My father agreed with me, but he did not like the fact that salvation had come through the Comte.

That was a memorable night. All was safe and there was an air of jubilation everywhere. After what had been a calamitous beginning we had come through to a satisfactory end. The whole of the neighbourhood seemed to have gathered there. Lights from lanterns and torches flickered in the warm evening air. On the grass before the house the fiddlers were playing folksongs: people were singing as they danced. Katie was beside me, silent with wonder.

There was last year’s wine for all, and cakes made of nuts and fruit. The singing grew louder as the evening progressed and the dancing more vigorous. I sat down on a bench and watched them and I was moved to hear some of the songs Grand’mere had sung to me when I was little.

En passant par la Lorraine Avec mes sabots …

Someone was beside me. He sat down. I turned and my heart gave a leap of surprise, consternation and I admit, a certain excitement.

I heard myself stammer: “The Comte de Carsonne.”

“In person,” he replied, putting his face near mine. “Please say you are glad to see me.” He took my hand and kissed it. He looked at Katie. “Don’t tell me. I know. This is the delectable Mademoiselle Katie. I am enchanted to meet you, Mademoiselle.” He then took her hand and kissed it.

I could see the excitement bubbling up in Katie’s eyes. Her hand had never been kissed in that manner before—and by such an obviously important gentleman.

“I know who you are,” she said. Katie was never at a loss for words.

“Then we are well acquainted already.”

“Are you really an ogre?”

“I think the answer is probably yes.”

“You’re not a giant, though.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Do you eat people?”

“Do I look like a cannibal?”

“What is a cannibal, Mama?”

“Someone who eats people,” I said.

“They do not form a regular part of my diet,” he told her.

“Would you eat me?”

“This is a silly conversation,” I said. “You know it is, Katie.”

He laughed and taking her by the chin smiled at her. “Not for breakfast,” he said.

“Dinner then?”

“I should have to fatten you up.”

“Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum,” chanted Katie, “I smell the blood of an English girl.”

She giggled.

I said to him: “Did you want to see my father?”

“No. I wanted to make sure that all was well and that he had overcome his bad luck.”

“He was grateful to you,” I said.

“If all is well, I am satisfied.” He added, “What do you think of this?” He waved his hand. “This … ceremony?”

“It is very interesting.”

“Quite amusing … briefly, for the lady of business from London and Paris.”

“Quite amusing.”

“I see that Mademoiselle Katie is entranced. Mademoiselle, I should like to show you a true vendange … just how it has been done for the last hundreds of years … the way they do it at my chateau. Will you honour me by attending?”

“Do you mean to come to yours? Oh yes, please. We will, won’t we, Mama?”

I said: “We shall have to see.”

“But why can’t we go?”

“We must see what plans your grandfather has for us.”

“He hasn’t any.”

“Then,” said the Comte, “it is arranged. Madame Sallonger, Mademoiselle Katie, you are to be my guests. It will be in three days from now.”

Katie clapped her hands.

“I promise not to eat you,” he added.

Katie lifted her shoulders and giggled.

My father had seen us and came speedily towards us.

“Monsieur le Comte.”

He rose smiling urbanely as though it were the most natural thing to call casually on an enemy of years’ standing.

“I’m glad all went well, St. Allengere.”

“I have to thank you,” began my father stiffly.

“Don’t think of it. It was the only thing to do. I heard about the accident. What a time for it to happen! I guessed your predicament and so I sent the men.”

“They came just in time.”

“Then I am content.”

“I am indebted to you,” went on my father.

The Comte waved his hand. “Madame Sallonger and Mademoiselle Katie have just agreed to come to the chateau vendange. That is ample reward for the little service I have been able to render.”

My father looked stunned. He said: “I am sure the Comte will want to look round. Would you care to come with me, Comte?”

“With pleasure.”

He was smiling secretively as he bowed first to me, then to Katie; and we watched him walk off with my father.

“He’s not a giant,” said Katie. ”But he’s better than a giant. He makes me laugh. I like him, don’t you, Mama?”

I was silent.

She looked disappointed. “He doesn’t really eat people. That was only a joke.”

“Oh?” I said.

“I like him,” she added, almost defiantly.

I did not see him again that night.

I was glad to be alone in my room. There was no doubt that he was disturbing. I wondered why he had sent those men and why he had actually put in an appearance tonight. First he had shown his power by commanding the itinerant workers to come to him and then he had made the grand gesture. I thought it had all been rather contrived.

I lay awake for a long time thinking of him.

In the morning, when we were alone together, my father said: “The Comte is acting very strangely … to turn up like that, as though we had been fast friends for years. We have never had any communication whatsoever.”

“Well, he did send the men over.”

“Why? In the normal way he would have snapped his fingers at us. He would have been glad if our harvest had been spoilt. We are, in a measure, rivals. Moreover his family have had a long-standing feud with ours.”