“This cannot be denied,” Father Xavier agreed.

“So they all go to hell,” Roland continued, because he wanted to get it right.

But here Father Xavier had hesitated for a moment, as if considering what was just and proper.

“We may suppose,” he said finally, “that in normal circumstances, it is unlikely that a Jew, or indeed a Protestant, will enter Heaven. But we cannot know the mind of God. And in His infinite wisdom, He may make exceptions.”

Roland might have preferred something more definite, but it seemed enough to be going on with. Non-Catholics were in a lot of trouble. And when it came to all the things he heard people say about the Jews, at school and in the homes of his friends, he felt he could assume that most of the evil tales must be based upon something.

He looked at Monsieur Jacob with suspicion, therefore, and wondered why his father was treating him in such a friendly manner.

“So what would you like me to see?” his father was asking.

“A moment, monsieur.” Jacob disappeared through the door at the back, returning shortly with what looked like a rug, which he proceeded to unroll. “A moment more,” he said, as he lit several lamps around it. “Voilà, Monsieur de Cygne, and young Monsieur Roland. Here it is.”

They stepped forward. And his father gasped.

“Where the devil did you find it?” he cried.

“On a friend’s recommendation, I bid blind on the entire contents of a house in Rouen,” the dealer explained. “A month later, to my surprise they told me I’d won the auction. When I went to clear the place out, I found this wrapped up in the basement.” He smiled. “Then I thought, this might belong in Monsieur de Cygne’s château down in the Loire valley. It’s the right period. But if it should not be of any interest to you, then I will show it to other customers.”

“My dear Jacob …” The vicomte turned to his son. “Do you know what this is, Roland?”

The tapestry at which Roland was gazing was remarkable in many ways. In the first place, it had no border, and every inch of its luminous blue-green background seemed to be covered in magical flowers and plants, from which birds, animals and humans were emerging. The whole tone of the picture, as well as the dress of the knights and ladies, suggested that it was medieval.

“Because they are so sprinkled with plants, these tapestries are known as mille fleurs, a thousand flowers,” his father said.

“It looks magical,” Roland said.