“Yes, I understand.”
“I’m glad, for now there are no secrets between us.”
I looked across the grass to the pond. It was hot now but the afternoon was already late and the evenings were drawing in. It was only a year ago that I had come here. So much, I thought, to happen in one short year.
“You are silent,” he said.
“Tell me what you are thinking.”
“I was thinking of all that has happened since I first came here.
Nothing is as it seemed when I came to the chateau. when I saw you all for the first time. I saw you so differently from what you are . and now I find you capable of this . great sacrifice. “
“My darling, you are too dramatic. This … sacrifice has cost me little. What do I care for what is said of me? You know I am arrogant enough to snap my fingers at the world and say: think what you will.
But although I snap my fingers at the world there is one whose good opinion is of the greatest importance to me . That is why I sit here basking in her approval, allowing her to set the halo on my head. I know of course that she will soon discover it was an illusion. but it’s pleasant to wear it for a while. “
“Why do you always want to denigrate yourself?”
“Because I’m afraid beneath my arrogance.”
“Afraid. You. Of what?”
“That you will stop loving me.”
“And what of me? Don’t you think I have a similar fear?”
“It is comforting to know you can be capable of folly now and then.”
“I think,” I said, ‘that this is the happiest moment of my life. “
He put an arm about me and we sat close together for some minutes looking over the peaceful garden.
“Let’s make it last,” he said.
He took the notebook from me and tore off the cover. Then he struck a match and applied it to the leaves.
I watched the blue and yellow flame creep over the childish handwriting.
Soon there was nothing left of Francoise’s confession.
He said: “It was unwise to keep it. Will you explain to Nounou?”
I nodded. I picked up the cover of the notebook and slipped it into my pocket.
Together we watched a piece of blackened paper tossed across the lawn.
I thought of the future of whispers that would now and then reach me, of the wildness of Genevieve, of the complex nature of the man I had chosen to love. The future was a challenge. But then I had always been one to accept a challenge.