The Black Swan

He was there with Celeste and rose as we entered. He was of medium height, with dark hair and lively dark eyes; he was handsome in a way, with well-defined features in a somewhat classic mold; he spoke English well with only the faintest trace of accent. He was elegant and suave, and there was something about him which slightly repelled me. I was not sure what, but I did know that whenever he was mentioned Rebecca’s attitude showed me clearly that she did not like him, and I think that this attitude of hers had sown seeds of mistrust within me.

“Here are Lucie and Belinda,” said Celeste.

He turned to us.

“Lucie!” He took my hand and kissed it. “Enchanted,” he murmured. And then, “Belinda.” He took both her hands. “Why... you are beautiful. I think we should get to know each other, don’t you?”

Belinda sparkled. Her eyes danced. I, who understood her well, knew she was thinking that it was going to be easy to make a conquest of this man. I was not so sure. I felt I knew a little of him-not much, but enough to tell me that one could not take him entirely for what he appeared to be. He could not be easily understood. He was Belinda’s father and I imagined they might have similar characteristics in some respects. That might draw them together.

“Dinner will be served very soon,” said Celeste.

He looked at his sister. “Will there be guests?”

“No, I thought we might just be ... the family.”

“Excellent idea. It is what I hoped.”

“Well, in a few minutes, I should think, we should go in. It will be the small room tonight.”

“Delightfully intimate,” he said.

His eyes were on Belinda-admiring, I thought, though one could not be sure with such a man.

“I am so pleased you have come home,” he said to Belinda.

“So am I,” she answered.

“You don’t look as though you have come from... what is it they call it? ... the outback?”

“Yes,” said Belinda, “they do call it that.”

“Rather you look like a young lady of fashion.”

“What one is depends upon oneself,” responded Belinda.

“How right you are.”

“Belinda has told us a great deal about her life on the goldfields,” said Celeste.

“It was very interesting.”

“You must tell me ... sometime,” he said to Belinda.

It was an indication that they would meet again and that he was not particularly interested in goldfields. Belinda got the message. She was beaming. I fancied she was deciding that it was all going according to her plans. At dinner there was an animated conversation, generally between Belinda and Jean Pascal. It was clear to both Celeste and me that he was delighted with her and amused and rather pleased to be presented with a grown-up daughter. Belinda had always been without reticence. She talked animatedly, showing a lively interest in the chateau in France and the wine industry.

“It’s not far from Bordeaux,” he said. “Wine-growing country. Everything there is suitable for it.”

“It produces the best wine in the world,” said Belinda.

“We think so, naturally.”

“So does the whole world. I think it must be fascinating watching over the grapes... making sure that everything is all right. How wonderful!”

“It can be far from pleasant sometimes,” he told her. “There are forces to contend with... weather and disease.”

“But that makes it all the more exciting.”

“I am not sure that my work people would agree with that.”

“Well, if everything runs smoothly, it must be less rewarding when it all conies right in the end.”

“A philosopher, I see.”

“Well, it’s just plain common sense.”

“There are things you do not know of, Belinda. Why, some ten years ago the vine louse destroyed most of the grapes in France. That was a far from exhilarating experience, I can tell you. Just imagine the wretched creatures getting to the vines underground and sucking the sap at the roots. There is only one way of getting rid of them, and that is to flood the grounds.”

“How terrible!” said Belinda. “But how fascinating! Do tell us about Chateau Bourdon.

Is it really a castle?”

“Not on the scale of Blois or Chambord-much, much smaller. There were many castles in France and they were not all destroyed during the Revolution. Bourdon is a medium-sized chateau. It is rather pleasant. It is set in attractive country and our own vineyards are quite extensive.” She clasped her hands and gazed at him ecstatically.

I thought he was rather attracted by his daughter, but I was not sure, for he was the sort of man who would hide his true feelings under a cloak of sophistication. No doubt he was seeing all sorts of traits in her similar to his own.

He did bestow some attention on me.

He asked me what I intended to do, and I told him that as yet I was unsure.

“Lucie has suffered a great shock,” said Celeste. “She needs time to recover.”

He nodded sympathetically.