‘What nationality is your footman? He looks like a Chinese.’

‘Actually he is a Russian,’ the Prince replied, ‘but he was born on the borders of Siberia and Tibet. He has been my personal servant since I was a babe. I call him my Keeper, for he guards me both day and night. In the daytime he is always in attendance on me, and at night he sleeps on the threshold of my room. No harm can come to me when Potoc is about.’ ‘How romantic it all sounds!’ Mistral exclaimed.

The Prince laughed.

‘But like romance it can sometimes be terribly tiresome! You will agree with me because you, too, have a keeper!’

‘I?’

Mistral looked towards him in surprise.

‘Yes, you,’ the Prince replied. ‘Your aunt is a dragon. She frightens me most terribly.’

‘I too, am frightened of Aunt Emilie,’ Mistral confessed, ‘but I cannot see why you should be frightened of her. She is always very nice to you.’

I think that is what frightens me,’ the Prince said, but he smiled and there was obviously no truth in his assertion. ‘But tell me about yourself, little Mademoiselle, why do you always wear grey?’

He touched Mistral’s skirt as he spoke, for the wide folds of grey foulard were spread wide over the carriage seat, and then he looked at the soft fichu of grey muslin crossed over her breast and at the tiny bonnet trimmed with grey feathers which did little to conceal the shining beauty of her hair.

‘I cannot answer that question,’ Mistral faltered.

‘Why not? Is it a secret – like your real identity and that of your aunt?’

‘Yes – I suppose so! ‘

‘Clever – very clever.’

The Prince seemed to be speaking to himself.

Then he added,

‘But must we have secrets from one another – you and I? Now that we are alone, an unexpected privilege, let us talk about you, most adorable little grey fântóme and forget the rest of the world for a little while, including your aunt.’

Mistral pressed her fingers together in her lap.

There was something in the Prince’s tone, in the caressing, almost possessive note in his voice, which made her want to run away. They were driving along the shore. She wanted to look at the sea, at the lemon groves on the other side of the road, at the hillside beyond them on which the sheep were grazing, but instead she dared not let her attention wander from the man at her side.

She liked the Prince because he always laughed and joked.

He was very young and very gay, and yet whenever the opportunity arose, he said things to her which made her shiver inside, and feel the blood rise in her cheeks.