Mistral did not know that it was her very simplicity which had defeated her. Emilie had known at that moment that she could not possibly put into words what she had in mind.

‘You must trust me,’ Emilie said, and her voice was hard. ‘Besides, for the moment there is nothing to explain. Tonight we dine downstairs. You will wear grey chiffon with the pleated frills. I have learned from the Manager that there is to be a Gala dinner tonight. The whole of Monte Carlo will be here. You will see all the celebrities and afterwards we will go across to the Concert Room at the Casino.’

Mistral clasped her hands together.

‘Shall we see people gambling, Aunt Emilio?’

‘We will watch the tables,’ Emilie said. ‘It is an interesting sight if only for the satisfaction of watching other people make fools of themselves.’

‘Is it wrong to gamble?’ Mistral asked.

‘Wrong?’ Emilie repeated the word with an inflection of interrogation. ‘I see nothing wrong in doing what interests or amuses one. People who tell you that gambling is wrong are usually characterless and so weak that they cannot prevent themselves from pouring away at the tables money they can ill afford. No, why should you think it wrong?’

‘I only wondered,’ Mistral answered. ‘A Nun at the Convent told me that, although gambling had brought great prosperity to Monaco and the poor of the Principality had benefited by it, she felt that it was wrong as it encouraged the lust for money.’

‘A narrow creed from a narrow woman walled up in seclusion,’ Emilie sneered. ‘You will be wise not to take your sense of values from Nuns, Mistral.’

‘I have had little opportunity of doing anything else until now,’ Mistral replied quietly.

Her reply was not impertinent, it was just a statement of fact, but for the moment Emilie looked startled.

‘You are right,’ she said. ‘I had forgotten how long you have been there. It is true that you know nothing of the world, I must not forget that.’

‘Why did you never let me come back to the farm?’ Mistral asked.

‘Because I had left the farm myself,’ Emilie replied. ‘I wanted you to be brought up a lady like your mother.

The farm was rough and, when my grandfather died, there was not enough money to keep it together unless I had slaved there day after day, year after year, until it killed me. I wanted to pay for your education, Mistral. I wanted a proper life for myself, and so, when you went to the Convent, I went to Paris.’

‘To Paris!’ Mistral ejaculated. ‘And you were happy, Aunt Emilie?’

‘I worked very hard, Mistral, and I suppose in my own way I was content. I had an object in view and at least I was getting nearer to it.’