‘Kind?’ Stella made the word a question, then she laughed. ‘It is kind of you to be talking here to the likes of me. If anyone sees us, you’ll get into trouble, you know.’

‘People often have very silly ideas,’ Mistral said, ‘I can see nothing wrong in my talking to you.’

The way she spoke was gentle and friendly and so was the smile on her lips. Stella gave a little sigh.

‘Lots of people would be only too ready to tell you how wrong it is,’ she said. ‘That’s the trouble with this world, you’re never certain if what you’re doing is right or wrong – at least I’m not.’

‘You sound as if you were troubled about something,’ Mistral replied, instinctively sympathetic.

‘It’s funny you should say that,’ Stella exclaimed, ‘and it’s just about the truth, for I am. Funnily enough, what’s troubling me is a real mixture of right and wrong.’

‘Perhaps someone could help you,’ Mistral said. ‘When I have been in doubt over things that really matter, I have always found it comforting to go to someone who knows the answers.’

She did not like to suggest outright that a Priest would solve the problem. She was on the verge of doing so when she remembered that the majority of people in England were not Catholics.

Stella seemed to be cogitating over her words. The woman had finished sewing on the glittering butterfly and with a muttered word of thanks Stella gave her a franc.

‘Merci, Mademoiselle, merci,’ the woman said, returning to her chair by the cloaks.

Mistral knew she should go back to Aunt Emilie. It would be difficult to explain why she should have taken so long to do a simple errand, yet something made her stay. She felt instinctively that Stella wanted to confide in her.

Her expression was worried, her eyes with their heavily mascara-ed eyelashes were almost piteous in their appeal for help. Mistral knew that she must stay a little longer whatever the personal consequences. At last it seemed that Stella had made up her mind to speak.

‘Look here,’ she said, ‘there’s something about you which makes me feel that you could solve my problem for me. It’s this. Supposing you had the chance of giving up something that was wrong and doing something that was right, but in doing it you would hurt someone very much. Really hurt them, I mean – someone you were fond of and who was fond of you. Would you think that right or wrong?’

Mistral drew a deep breath. Somehow she knew that events of the greatest importance hung on her reply.

‘That is not really a difficult question,’ she said in her clear, sweet voice. ‘To give up something that is wrong is always the right thing to do, however hard it may seem, however many difficulties there may be in the way. One must always try not to hurt other people. One must always give them the greatest possible consideration and kindness, but there is something more important than their feelings, however dear they are to us. In doing what is right we are doing the will of God, and that comes first. We must do what is right, however great the cost to ourselves or – to other people.’