‘Young Louis did well in putting Turgot at the head of finances,’ said my father who seemed unable to keep his thoughts from politics. ‘He is a good, sincere man who is eager to do his best for his country. But it is not going to be easy to keep down the price of corn and if the cost of bread goes up, which seems inevitable, that is going to make the people restive.’
‘Oh dear,’ I sighed. ‘There are always these troubles. I want to hear about Aubigné. Sophie … ?’
There was a brief silence.
Then my mother said: ‘She keeps to her turret. I do wish she would be with us more. She is becoming a hermit. Jeanne chooses which servants are to go in and clean. She really is rather autocratic. But what can we do? We have to bow to her. She really is so necessary to Sophie.’
‘I hope I shall be able to see Sophie while I am here.’
‘She refuses to see people. It is very sad to think of her up there … her life slipping away.’
‘Is it possible for anything to be done for her?’
‘There are lotions and creams. Jeanne is always going out to the markets and bringing things back. How effective they are I cannot say. Not very, I should think, for Sophie stays up there and it is really only Jeanne who has any communication with her.’
‘It would be better if she went into a convent,’ said my father.
‘Is she likely to?’
‘No, Marie Louise is more likely to do that.’
‘Marie Louise is a very good girl,’ said my mother.
‘Too good for this world,’ answered my father shortly.
My mother lifted her shoulders. ‘She should never have married,’ she said. ‘She cannot bear children. I think they have given up the attempt.’
‘One can’t blame Armand,’ went on my father. It was clear that he had no great love for his daughter-in-law. ‘She is so pious. The chapel is always in use. Once a day used to be enough. Now she spends most of her time there. Her servants have to attend with her. It is most depressing. At this moment she is staying the night at the Convent de la Forêt Verte. You know it. It is only three miles from the château. She is endowing it with a new altar. Lottie, this place has changed since you left us.’
‘Your father longs for the days when you were here, Lottie,’ said my mother. ‘Then Sophie behaved more normally. She was always quiet, and then there was that other girl … ’
‘Lisette,’ I cried. ‘I often think of her. I wrote to her but she never answered. How is Tante Berthe?’
‘The same as ever.’
‘I do want a word with her before I go. I should really love to see Lisette again.’
‘She was a very pretty girl,’ said my mother.
‘And still is, I don’t doubt,’ I replied. ‘It would be so interesting to see her again. I shall certainly beard Tante Berthe in her den. She is still in the same quarters, I suppose.’
‘Just the same. She is very proud of them and no one is allowed to go in without an invitation.’
‘What a martinet she always was!’
‘But an excellent manager,’ said my father. ‘We have never regretted her coming.’
‘I am surprised that she allowed Lisette to escape. She used to watch over her so carefully. Lisette used to be really scared of her … the only person she ever was scared of.’
Then we talked of other matters but I went on thinking of Lisette and the fun we used to have together. That was inevitable now that I was at the château.
The next day Marie Louise came back from the convent. She was far from good-looking and despised those little aids to beauty which most women seemed to use nowadays. She wore her hair very simply tied back. None of those Marie Antoinette styles for her. Her gown was dark grey and decidedly drab. When I expressed my pleasure at seeing her and said that I hoped we should be together sometime, she told me she sewed for the poor every afternoon and if I would care to join her she would find some work for me to do and she could tell me about the altar she was going to build for the Forêt Verte.
I did not find the prospect very exciting and as needlework had never appealed to me, I allowed the invitation to lapse.
It was pleasant to see Armand. His unsatisfactory marriage did not appear to have changed him at all. He was of a placid nature and apparently took what came to him in a philosophical way. I was sure he had a pleasant mistress somewhere—several perhaps—and he was quite content to leave matters as they were.
The Comte, however, was less ready to accept the state of affairs. My mother told me how disturbed he was by Armand’s sterile marriage.
‘There is the family line … the estates and everything. Your father is worried about that. However, he is delighted with little Charlot.’
Then we talked of my son and she wanted to know what he had done and said, for he could chatter away quite intelligently now, which we both declared was miraculous; and we spent a great deal of time talking of him.
I did see Tante Berthe in her rooms when I was granted an interview. I thought how I should have laughed with Lisette afterwards, if only she had been there to laugh with me.
