The attendant crossed the floor with a needle and thread. Stella paid little attention to her. She was looking at Mistral and it seemed from the expression on her face that she was struggling in her mind whether she should say something or not. At length the words almost burst from her.

‘Look here, let me give you a tip,’ she said. If anyone wants to buy those pearls of yours, you say no.’

Mistral stared at Stella in astonishment, then it came to mind that it must be for her that the Rajah wished to purchase the pearls.

‘They are not for sale,’ she said quietly, ‘for they belonged to my mother.’

‘I thought it would be something like that when I was looking at you just now,’ Stella said, ‘but just remember what I’ve said. If anyone asks you to part with them – tell them there’s nothing doing.’

‘Thank you for the advice,’ Mistral said slowly. ‘It was very kind of you to give it to me.’

‘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.