‘She has gone to the Casino,’ Jeanne answered. ‘She left a message for me to say that she would be back soon. But those that start gambling lose all sense of time.’

‘I should not have thought somehow that Aunt Emilie would like gambling,’ Mistral said. ‘She always seems to me to be rather careful of money.’

‘She is!’ Jeanne answered. ‘She hates losing it, but she likes winning it.’

‘I suppose everyone is like that,’ Mistral said with a laugh. But I do not think I want to gamble even if I won. I watch the people’s faces when they are playing. They look tense, greedy and cross. You seldom see anyone look happy and really amused by it, except perhaps the Prince, but he is always laughing.’

‘Did you enjoy your drive?’ Jeanne asked.

Mistral nodded her head.

‘It was lovely. The Prince told me all sorts of legends about Monaco. It has a wonderful history, Jeanne.’

‘What else did he say to you?’

‘Nothing much else,’ Mistral answered. What did you expect him to say?’

She thought that Jeanne looked at her queerly, then the old woman started to fold up her work.

‘I didn’t expect anything,’ she said.

Mistral sat down suddenly on a stool at Jeanne’s feet and looked out of the window.

‘Why do you think Aunt Emilie lets me go out alone with the Prince, Jeanne?’ she asked after a moment. ‘She is perfectly furious if I even think of speaking to anyone else, and when a nice old man tried to talk to me at the Casino last night and offered me a cup of coffee, she almost annihilated him, she was so angry.’

‘A kind old man!’ Jeanne repeated. ‘I expect he was no better than he ought to be. Old men should stay at home looking after their grandchildren instead of talking to young and pretty girls.’

Mistral laughed.

‘Jeanne, you are as bad as Aunt Emilie! But why does she get cross with me? I do try to do what she wants.’

There was something pathetic in the young voice, and Jeanne instinctively put out her hand and laid it on Mistral’s head.

‘Now don’t you go worrying too much about your aunt,’ she said. ‘She has had a hard life one way and another, and it has made her a bit queer and not herself at times. Monsieur Bleuet was not an easy man to live with either, though he could be kindness itself when it suited him. But your aunt found him difficult, and it’s hard for a woman when her husband is not naturally congenial to her.’

‘Husband? Monsieur Bleuet?’ Mistral asked in tones of surprise. ‘I thought Aunt Emilie had married a Comte?’

There was no disguising the consternation in Jeanne’s face.

Her hands flew up to her cheeks as the blood rose slowly and painfully into them.

‘There now, what have I said?’ she exclaimed.