Emilie had spoken passionately and somehow it was infinitely frightening that Alice did not answer her. Instead she sat staring out to sea, her eyes almost as blue as the water on which they rested.

‘Do you hear me?’ Emilie repeated.

Alice had turned her face towards her then,

‘Yes, I hear you.’

‘And you will obey me?’ Emilie insisted. ‘It is understood, Alice, that you are not to see him again, you are not to accept any other invitations to the Chateau d’Horizon.’

But still Alice did not answer. Emilie was certain, though, that she would not disobey. She had never had any trouble with Alice, who had always been very obedient.

Then Fate had taken a hand, or so it seemed later to Emilie. The very next day brought a letter from the farm. Marie Riguad was ill. She had fallen down and broken her leg and Emilie must return at once.

For a moment she contemplated taking Alice with her, and then she thought that such a precaution was ridiculous. They had only just arrived, the change and warm sunshine had already done Alice good. It would be cruel to take her back, to drag her away to the north, to subject her to the bitter March winds and storms of Brittany which invariably left her weak and listless.

Emilie decided to go alone, but before she went she spoke to Alice once again about the Grand Duke.

‘He has doubtless forgotten about you by now,’ she said, ‘but in case an invitation comes, you are to refuse it. Do you understand? You are not to show yourself near his house either, but stay here on the shore. As soon as mother is better, I will return for you.’

Emilie had left. She could remember driving away over the rough road, leaning out of the window waving, waving until Alice was lost to sight. It had been that last picture which was to haunt Emilie now on her first night in the Hôtel de Paris. Alice with the sun on her face, her head thrown back, her fair hair glinting like a halo round her head, the wheels of the coach drawing them further and further apart.

She must have dreamt of Alice too lying in the big room on the warm, comfortable mattress, for when she awoke she heard her own voice whispering, ‘Alice, Alice!’

It seemed to start the day all wrong, and Mistral found her very cross at breakfast.

‘Oh, Aunt Emilie,’ Mistral cried. ‘This is the loveliest place in the whole world. I had no idea the sea could be so blue.’

‘Come and eat your breakfast, Mistral,’ Emilie said sharply, ‘and stop running in and out of the balcony. I spoke to you about it last night.

‘But, Aunt Emilie, surely you don’t mind today? We are going out, aren’t we?’

Emilie made up her mind.