Emilie lived for three days, but she never regained consciousness. Jeanne nursed her devotedly and Mistral was at her bedside practically the whole time, but there was nothing either of them could do. She had been put to bed in the Chateau d’Horizon and the Grand Duke sent for his own Doctor, but from the very moment he set eyes on Emilie his verdict was decisive and without hope.

‘This lady has had a severe stroke,’ he said, ‘and it is practically impossible for her to live for more than a few days. If by some miracle she does survive, she will be partially paralysed for the rest of her life.’

Mistral, watching Emilie sink deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, felt that this was the most merciful and kindest thing that could happen.

Her face was horribly distorted and it was even difficult to recognise Emilie’s undoubted good looks when one looked at the poor twisted features of the woman who lay oblivious in the bed.

For long hours at a time Mistral sat beside her aunt, and, sitting there, it seemed to her that she herself thought little and felt nothing. It was as if time stood still and she was in a No man’s Land between the past and the future, a kind of vacuum in which she moved and had her being, but in a dazed, bewildered manner which left everything indecisive.

She did not understand that she was suffering from shock and that, because she had been through so much, nothing had the power to hurt her further, that her nerves were sealed off, as it were, from the outer world.

Then on the third day Emilie died.

Mistral had left the darkened bedroom and gone into the sitting room next door because she had been told that the Grand Duke wished to speak to her. The room was bright with sunshine and yet Mistral felt as if she saw it through a grey fog. The Grand Duke was standing by the fireplace and she had just reached his side and her eyes, dark-rimmed with sleeplessness, were raised to his, when suddenly the door was pushed violently open and Jeanne came into the room.

She was crying, the tears running down her withered cheeks.

‘She is dead!’ she said. ‘Madame is dead!’

Jeanne looked as if she were about to collapse and Mistral moved swiftly to her side. But the old woman drew herself away, putting out her hands as if to ward her off.

‘Don’t touch me, Mademoiselle,’ she commanded. There is something I must say and I must say it now.’

She looked at the Grand Duke as she spoke and he said quietly,

‘Sit down! You have been through a great deal!’

Jeanne shook her head.

‘I will stand, Your Imperial Highness,’ she said obstinately.