I could not utter a single complaint while I sojourned beneath Madame’s roof. There my life was a retired one, but I possessed all that I required. Allenham, who lived but a short stroll away at the Hôtel Duplessis, called upon me most days when he was not engaged with the business of his position. Although he found himself frequently abroad, I was relieved that his absences seldom lasted more than a fortnight. In that time I diverted myself well enough. I took my meals in the company of my amicable landlady and occasionally formed a fourth pair of hands at cards or accompanied her to the Théâtre de la Monnaie. I acquired a harp and took instruction upon it and, when not engaged in that pursuit, turned my attention to my box of watercolours. From the Egmont Palace gardens I would trace the broad vistas in shades of amber and rust. As autumn chilled into winter I copied the interiors of Madame’s rooms; sketching her maids as they tended the grates with one suspicious eye upon me.

All the while I would await Allenham’s certain return with a quiet contentment. The day never failed to arrive when I would be roused by the familiar deep tones of his voice upon the stair. When at last Madame’s servants showed him into my company his arms would be far too burdened with packets or boxes to embrace me. Instead, he would set before me the modest collection of treasures he had gathered whilst abroad.

‘Had I the means, I would not scruple to adorn you with jewels worthy of a sultan’s bride,’ he would apologize. ‘But perhaps you will indulge the hapless fool who adores you and pretend to take pleasure in his pretty trifles?’

On each occasion I was presented with the most thoughtful of gifts. From Paris he brought delicate silk stockings, perfumes and eaux de toilette. There were scented gloves, embroidered shawls, and, from Geneva, a pretty white-faced watch upon whose gold case the words ‘Constant, comme mon coeur’ were engraved.

‘A memento by which you might always recall the constancy of my love . . . particularly in my absence,’ said he as his gentle fingers pressed it into my hand.