‘My name is Stanford,’ he said. ‘Sir Robert Stanford.’

He watched her face as he spoke and knew that she had never heard of him. Suddenly he had an insane desire to add

‘I am a very rich, important and influential Englishman.’

It was ridiculous, of course, but he wanted to shine in this strange child’s eyes. Why, he could not explain even to himself.

‘How do you do, Sir Robert?’

Mistral swept him a little curtsey, and now she had turned once again towards the sea.

‘Look at the colour of it,’ she said. ‘I never believed that it could be so blue. I thought it was one of those stories that people tell you. But, it is blue – blue as the Madonna’s robes in the Lady Chapel.’

She had forgotten him and Sir Robert felt curiously piqued that the Mediterranean should have more appeal than he. Somewhere afar off a clock struck. It struck six times. Mistral counted the strokes.

‘Six o’clock!’ she said. ‘I must go back. My aunt wakens early and I know she would be very angry if she knew where I had been.’

‘And would the Nuns approve of your deceiving your aunt?’ Sir Robert asked teasingly.

Her little face was serious as she shook her head.

‘No, they would say it was very wrong,’ she replied, ‘and I, too, think it is wrong and I shall do penance for it. But just for once I wanted to do something by myself. I wanted to forget all the rules and regulations that I have always obeyed. There is always someone giving them to me.’

She glanced to where she had told him the Chapel of St. Dévote stood and he felt she was praying. It was easy to watch her face when she was unaware of his scrutiny.

He thought he had never seen such amazing eyes. They were not English, yet the girl spoke English like an Englishwoman, while many of her gestures appeared to be French. It was strange how she appeared anxious to be secretive, but it should not be hard to find out who she was. It would be difficult, even in Monte Carlo, for such beauty to remain hidden for long.

‘And now I must go.’

Mistral turned. There was something in her expression which made him certain that she had been praying. She put out her hand.

‘Thank you, Sir Robert, for your kindness. I am very grateful.’

He took her hand in his.

‘We will meet again, little Mistral?’ he asked. ‘I do not expect so,’ she replied.

‘But why not? May I not call upon your aunt?’