It was not so much what he said as the way in which he said it and the feeling that she had that he was playing with her all the time, that his compliments, elegant though they were, were not sincere but part of a game which she did not understand.

‘I have no wish to talk about myself,’ Mistral said hastily. ‘It is a dull subject, and besides, there is very little I can tell you. Tell me instead about the countryside and who live in all these magnificent villas.’

‘Why should I know or think of such dull prosaic things,’ the Prince said, as he leant forward to look into her face, his eyes resting on her lips, ‘when at the moment all that is of interest to me is here in this carriage – within reach of my arms?’

But you must know,’ Mistral insisted, speaking quickly because she was uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny and felt herself blushing at the implication in his words. ‘Where do you live, for instance? With your father?’

The Prince’s attention was diverted for an instant by this question.

‘So you are a little curious about me?’ he exclaimed. ‘No, I no longer live with my father. When I was twenty-one two months ago, he gave me a villa of my own. My father is old- fashioned and his Chateau is near the Palace in the old and quiet part of Monaco. My villa is very smart and very new. It is high up above the new town, on the road to Monte Agel. There I am on my own to do as I like, behave as I wish! It is magnificent – that feeling of independence.’

‘How lucky you are!’

Mistral spoke with a sudden heartfelt sincerity. She wished at that moment that she, too, could live her own life and do as she liked.

‘One day I would like to show you my villa,’ the Prince said, his eyes on Mistral’s face once again. ‘Will you come and visit me? I would like that, but I suppose we shall have to ask your aunt. There are many other things I would like to show you, too, such as the Corniche Road by moonlight – if we could be alone.’

‘My aunt would never allow that,’ Mistral said quickly.

‘I wonder if I could persuade her,’ the Prince said reflectively.

‘No, please do not try.’

Mistral’s voice was almost panic stricken, but now the Prince put out his hand and took hers from her lap. It trembled beneath his fingers like the fluttering of a captured bird.

‘I believe you are really frightened of me,’ he exclaimed. ‘Why, you silly little thing, there is nothing to frighten you. I would never hurt you.’

His tone was unexpectedly kind and gentle, and suddenly Mistral felt her eyes filling with tears.

‘It is not – that – I am – really frightened,’ she stammered. ‘It is just – that I do not – understand.’