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.’

Stella threw back her head and it seemed to Mistral as if she threw a great burden from off her shoulders, then she said quietly,

‘Thank you! I knew you could help me – you are good!’

9

Violet Featherstone moved restlessly about her sitting room. It was a very attractive room with windows opening out onto a balcony from which there was a magnificent view of the sea.

Wisteria hung over the balustrade in long purple tendrils, and from two ancient stone urns, which Violet had discovered broken and forgotten in some peasant’s garden, pink geraniums cascaded in luxuriant profusion.

The Villa was furnished with period pieces brought from England and there was none of the gaudy, ornate pomp which so many residents in the South of France thought desirable. Violet had always loved beautiful things. She had an inborn instinct for what was good, and Eric’s considerable fortune had enabled her to indulge her taste.