Without moving her head or looking at him, she said: ‘I’m afraid I can’t return the compliment. You’ve gone decidedly downhill.’ He blushed with embarrassment and unease, then, with a resigned smile said: ‘You’re a hard woman.’

‘Why?’ she asked, turning towards him. ‘I speak my mind, that’s all. You’re not about to offer me your love, are you? So it should be a matter of complete indifference to you what I think you look like. But I see this is a painful subject for you. Let’s talk about something else. What have you been doing since I last saw you?’

He had lost his composure and was stammering.

‘Me? I’ve been travelling. Hunting. Getting old. As you see. What about you?’

Serenely she replied: ‘I have been keeping up appearances as you instructed.’

He bit back the unkind words that sprang to mind. Taking his wife’s hand in his, he kissed it. ‘And I’m grateful for that.’

She was surprised. He really was strong and still just as self-controlled.

He went on: ‘Well you’ve agreed we can talk, at least. But can’t it be without all this bitterness?’

She made a little gesture of contempt.

‘I feel no bitterness, I assure you. You’re a complete stranger to me. I’m simply trying to keep up a somewhat difficult conversation.’

He continued to gaze at her, attracted despite her rudeness, feeling a savage desire to break down her defences and an irresistible urge to master her.

Sensing rightly that she had drawn blood she pressed her advantage.

‘How old are you now, by the way? You must be younger than you look.’

He grew pale.

‘I’m forty-five,’ he said, then added, ‘I forgot to ask if you have news of the Princesse de Raynes. Do you still see her? How is she?’

She threw him a glance full of loathing.

‘Yes. Still. She’s very well, thank you.’

And so they remained, sitting side by side, their hearts and minds in angry turmoil.

Suddenly he announced: ‘My dear Berthe, I’ve just had a change of mind. You’re my wife and I wish you to return today under my roof. I find that you’ve improved in both character and beauty and I’m taking you back. I am your husband and I have the right to do so.’

Stunned, she looked at him searchingly, trying to fathom his meaning. His face was impassive, expressionless and set.

She replied: ‘I’m so terribly sorry but I have a previous engagement.’

He smiled. ‘How very unfortunate for you … I warn you, I have the force of the law behind me and, should I need to, I shall not hesitate to use it.’

They were approaching Marseille. The whistle blew and the train began to slow down. The Baroness rose, briskly rolled up her furs and turned to her husband.