The Black Swan

I felt frightened. The attack had been deliberately provoked and I fancied there was some meaning in it. Jean Pascal was angry... furiously angry... and with me, of course, for refusing his proposal. He had had to vent his anger on someone and he had done it on the swan.

I was shaking with fear. There was something maniacal about the manner in which he had attacked the beautiful creature. Was he imagining that he was beating me?

I started to walk back to the chateau. He was beside me very soon, smiling, suave as ever.

“It is time someone taught Diable a lesson,” he said.

I did not answer and he went on, “Lucie, I don’t take no for an answer. Think about it, will you? Just give me that promise. Give it thought. Just consider what it would mean to you. We could be happy, Lucie, I know it. Promise me you will think about it.”

I was a coward, I knew. But I was in his house. I was his guest and I was terribly shaken by what I had seen. I could not tell him of the revulsion I felt, so I nodded my assent.

I wanted to get away and I was unsure how to act. I had traveled with Belinda. Could I undertake the journey back alone? Could I try to explain to Belinda? She would never understand.

I rehearsed what I might say. Something like: “Your father has asked me to marry him. I can’t, so I cannot stay in his chateau.” No. That would not do. Belinda would never understand. She would think I was a fool to refuse her father. I could imagine her comment. “It would be wonderful for you. My father is rich and important. As for you, Lucie, you’re hardly Helen of Troy or Cleopatra. You ought to marry an older man. You’re a bit of an old sober-sided yourself. Young men don’t like that. I reckon it’s the best thing that could happen to you.”

How could I explain to her: he frightens me. My flesh creeps when he comes near me.

I had no idea that he had marriage in mind. I must go quickly. The best thing to do was to get away by myself to think. If I walked in the grounds there was a good chance that I would come face-to-face with Jean Pascal. I went down to the stables and managed to ride off ... unseen.

I found myself riding toward the Fitzgeralds’ house. I could not confide in them, of course, but I did feel the need for company. I experienced a great sense of relief when I met them. They were on horseback and obviously on their way somewhere.

They hailed me with pleasure.

“Were you coming to visit us?” asked Phillida.

“Well... not exactly. I thought it would be nice if I saw you ...”

“It certainly is. Unfortunately we are just going visiting. What a pity!”

“Come tomorrow afternoon,” said Roland. “We shall be at home then.”

“I should love that. What time?”

“Two... no, two thirty?”

“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

They waved and rode off. I was rather relieved in a way. I wanted to think of the position. I did not want to do anything rash. I could perhaps ask their advice about returning home. Jean Pascal had looked after us on the journey out. I must remember that I should have to get myself across the country and my knowledge of the language was far from perfect. I was not sure of trains and so on. I would need help. I was not sure that I could ask Jean Pascal. I had a feeling that he might try to hinder me.

I wondered whether I could put the matter of my departure to the Fitzgeralds. I needed time to think ... to ponder, so it was just as well that our meeting had been postponed until the next day.

I got through that day somehow. I was on tenterhooks wondering whether I should be able to escape without Belinda and Jean Pascal knowing what was going on. The next day, immediately after luncheon, I was on my way to the Fitzgeralds. I was surprised on my arrival to find that they had a visitor. It was a young woman who was vaguely familiar to me; and as soon as I heard her name, I remembered. “This is Madame Carleon,” said Roland. “She is a neighbor of ours.”

“I picked her up,” explained Phillida, “which was really very clever of me.”

“Phillida is very good at that, as you know yourself,” added Roland. I knew now where I had seen her before. She was the young woman who had come into the hall of the chateau and displeased Jean Pascal by her presence. “This is Miss Lucie Lansdon,” went on Roland.

“I am very pleased that we meet,” said Madame Carleon in very accented English.

“I, too,” I replied.

“We met before at the Chateau Bourdon,” she went on.

“Very briefly,” I said.

“This will not be so brief,” said Roland. “Do sit down. Madame Carleon has told us so much about the countryside. We have been so fortunate in the friends we have made here.”