"It's true. At least I think so. You-well, you heard how Madame spoke to me just afterwards, and when I went into Soubirous today it was quite obvious that the story had got round." I told him about the reception I had had in the village. "Albertine-the maid-may just have been scandalmongering because she doesn't like me, but I think she probably knows what Madame intends to do."
He lifted a shoulder indifferently. "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? You needn't let it worry you now. In any case I'm sure you're wrong. Héloïse would never want to let you go."
I said rather shyly: "I thought that myself. I did think it- odd, because of Philippe."
He said quickly: "Philippe?"
"Yes. I-don't get me wrong; I don't think I did anything very great for Philippe. The shooting business in the wood was nothing. I just didn't lose my head and fuss him too much, but I-well, I did save him the time he nearly fell off the balcony, and your father said-"
Raoul said: "What time? What are you talking about?"
"Didn't you know?" I said, surprised. I told him about the grim little incident that had crowned my shopping trip to Thonon. He listened, his face turned away from me towards the fire. In the flickering light I couldn't read his expression. He reached abstractedly for a cigarette and lit it. Over the flare of the match I could see he was frowning. I finished: "And your father knew that night that you'd kissed me. I'm sure he did. You remember?"
A glint through the frown. "I remember."
"There wasn't any talk then about sending me away. But there is now, really."
He laughed: "Well, my love, we've given them more cause, haven't we? Let that be a comfort to you. It's very probable that everybody in the ballroom knows by this time that you've gone out with me, and is speculating wildly on the whys and wherefores."
I said tartly: "I don't suppose they have any doubt at all about the whys and wherefores. It's all very well you carrying off your love affairs en grand seigneur, Monsieur de Valmy, but I'm only the governess. No, don't laugh at me. I've got to face them tomorrow."
"With me, chérie, remember. And now let's forget tomorrow. This is tonight, and we are betrothed." He took my hands. "If we can't shout it from the housetops at least we can celebrate it to ourselves. Let's go and get some champagne."
"And some food," I said.
"You poor child! Haven't you fed?"
"Not a bite. I sat in my corner while you danced and drank and enjoyed yourself-"
"More fool you," said Raoul unsympathetically. "You had only to show yourself to be trampled to death by partners avid to let you dance and drink and enjoy yourself with them. Come on, then. Food."
The great dining-room was brilliant with people and gay with chatter and the popping of corks. Raoul made his way through the crowd with me in his wake. Several people hailed him, and I saw a few curious glances cast at me, but he didn't stop. As we reached the big table all a-gleam with silver I remembered something and touched his sleeve.
"Raoul, I'd forgotten. I promised to go up and see Philippe half-way through the dance. I must go."
He turned quickly, almost as if I had startled him. "Philippe? What on earth for?"
"I think he felt left out of things. At any rate I did promise to go up at 'dead of night'. I can't disappoint him."
"You… do look after him a little beyond the line of duty, don't you?"
"I don't think so. Anyway I think I ought to go straight away, in case he goes to sleep and thinks I've forgotten."
"But I thought you were starving?"
"I am." I looked wistfully at the laden table. There was a silver dish of crab patties just beside me, creaming over pinkly under their crimped fronds of parsley. "But a vow's a vow."
"And you always keep your vows?"
"Always."
"I'll remember that."
I laughed. "They're only valid if you'll let me keep the one I made to Philippe. His came first."
"Then I suppose I must. But I insist on coming too, and I'm not letting you faint with hunger by the wayside." He glanced at his wrist. "It's close on midnight-that's ‘dead of night', isn't it? Why don't we break a few more rules and take some food upstairs. Then Philippe will get his excitement and we our celebration."
"Oh, Raoul, that's a wonderful idea! Let's do that!"
"All right. I'll fix some food and drink. What d'you like?"
I looked again at the table. "Everything," I said simply.
He looked startled. "You must be hungry!"
"I am. Even if I weren't"-I sighed-"I couldn't by-pass that. I never saw anything so wonderful in my life."
He was looking at me with a curious expression. "Do you mean to say you've never been to a dance before?"
"This sort of thing? Never."
"One forgets," he said.
"I try to," I said lightly, "at any rate the dreary past never produced anything like this. May I have one of those meringues?"
"If you must. And I suppose you've never had champagne either? That's a thought… Well, you shall have it tonight. Meringues and champagne, may God forgive me. Well, you go along up to Philippe and I'll follow as soon as I've organised the food. I'll bring a bit of everything."
"That's a vow," I told him, and made my way out through the crowd.
My main fear was of coming across Léon de Valmy. I turned away from the hall and main staircase and ran down a corridor towards the secondary stair that Philippe and I commonly used.
But I needn't have worried. I reached the stairs unnoticed and mounted them hurriedly, holding up my filmy skirts. The staircase gave onto the upper corridor almost opposite Madame de Valmy's bedroom door. I was nearly at the top when I half- tripped as the catch of my sandal came loose. The sandal came off. I had to stop to pick it up.
As I straightened up, sandal in hand, two women came out of Madame de Valmy's sitting-room. My heart seemed to catch in mid-beat, then I saw that neither was Héloïse. They were elderly women who had not been dancing. I recognised one of them as an inveterate eyebrow-raiser-first at the blonde, then at me. I wondered how high her overworked brows would go if she knew I had an assignation with Raoul upstairs, however closely chaperoned by Philippe.
The sandal was my alibi. I waited politely for them to pass me before I proceeded to my own room for the ostensibly-needed repairs. I smiled at them, receiving in return two courteous and beautifully-calculated inclinations as they sailed by me, making for the main staircase.
The corridor emptied itself of the last rustle. With a wary eye on Héloïse's door I picked up my skirts again and turned towards Philippe's room.
Somewhere a clock whirred to strike. Midnight. I smiled. Dead of night exactly. I hoped Philippe was still awake.
The clock was beating twelve as I moved quietly along the corridor. Then a thought touched me out of nowhere and I stopped short, staring down at the sandal in my hand. Midnight. The dropped slipper. The escape from the ball.
I realised that I was frowning. The thing was so absurd as to be obscurely disquieting. Then I laughed and shrugged.
"Bring on your pumpkins," I whispered cheerfully, and laid a hand on Philippe's door.
CHAPTER 12
These delicates he heaped with glowing hand
On golden dishes and in baskets bright
Of wreathed silver; sumptuous they stand
In the retired quiet of the night.
Keats: Eve of St. Agnes.
Drink to heavy Ignorance!
Hob-and-nob with brother Death!
Tennyson: The Vision of Sin.
Philippe was awake. When I let myself quietly into his bedroom I found him sitting bolt upright in bed in his dressing-gown, with his eyes on the door. The fire, which should have been out hours ago, was burning merrily. The curtains over the long balcony windows were drawn back, so that the moonlight flowed in bright dramatic slant across the head of the bed.