My father thanked him for his gracious welcome.

"I fear,"

he said, 'that there may have been some misunderstanding and only I was expected. My daughter is also a painter. I find it difficult nowadays to travel without her. "

"It is our great pleasure to have Mademoiselle Collison with us," said our host.

He then informed us that he was Bertrand de Mortemer, a distant cousin of the Baron. The Baron was the head of the family . He was a member of a smaller branch. We understood?

We said we understood perfectly and it was very good of Monsieur de Mortemer to show such solicitude for our comfort.

"The Baron has heard of your fame," he explained.

"As you may have been told, he is about to marry and the miniature is to be a gift for his bride elect. The Baron may ask you to paint a miniature of his bride if..."

"If," I finished bluntly, 'he likes the work. "

Monsieur de Mortemer bowed his head in acknowledgement of the truth of this.

"He will most certainly like it," he added.

"Your miniatures are well known throughout the Continent, Monsieur Collison."

I was always deeply moved to see my father's gratification at praise and it was particularly poignant now that his powers were fading. I felt a great surge of tenderness towards him.

He was growing more and more confident every minute-and so was I. One could not imagine Monsieur de Mortemer being anything but pleasant and if the great and mighty Baron were like him, then we were indeed safe.

"The Baron is a connoisseur of art," said Monsieur de Mortemer.

"He enjoys beauty in any form. He has seen a great deal of your work and has a very high opinion of it. It was for this reason that be selected you to do the miniature rather than one of our own countrymen."

"The art of miniature painting is the one I think in which the English can be said to excel above others," said my father, off on to one of his favourite subjects.

"It is strange because it was developed in other countries before it came to England. Your own Jean Pucelle had his own group in the fourteenth century while our Nicolas Hilliard, who might be said to be our founder, came along two centuries later."

"It requires much patience, this art of the miniature," said Monsieur de Mortemer.

"That is it, eh?"

"A great deal," I corroborated.

"Do you actually live here with your cousin, Monsieur de Mortemer?"

"No... no. I live with my parents... south of Paris. When I was a boy I lived here for a while. I learned how to manage an estate and live er ... comme Ufaut... you understand? My cousin in my patron.

Is that how you say it? "

"A sort of guiding influence, the patriarch of the family?"

"Perhaps," he answered with a smile.

"My family estate is small in comparison. My cousin is ... er ... very helpful to us."

"I understand perfectly. I hope I am not asking impertinent questions."

"I am sure, Mademoiselle Collison, that you could never be impertinent. I am honoured that you should feel such an interest in my affairs."

"When we ... when my father is going to paint a miniature he likes to know as much as he can about the subject. The Baron seems to be a very important man ... not only in Centeville but in the whole of France."

"He is Centeville, Mademoiselle. I could tell you a great deal about him, but it is best that you discover for yourself. People do not always see through the same eyes, and perhaps a painter should only look through his own."

I thought: I have asked too many questions, and I can see that Monsieur de Mortemer is the soul of discretion. But toujours la politesse A good old French saying. He is right. We must discover this all-important Baron for ourselves.

My father turned the conversation to the castle. He obviously felt that would be a safe subject.

We had been right in thinking that the original structure dated back to some time before 1066. Then it had been a fortress with little more than sleeping quarters for the defenders and the rest equipped for fighting off invaders Over the intervening centuries it had been added to. The sixteenth century had been the era of building. Francois Premier had set the fashion and had built Chambord and restored and, embellished wherever he went. A great deal had been added to Centeville in his day, but this was apparent only in the interior.

Wisely, the Norman aspect had been preserved outwardly, which was probably the reason why the place was so impressive.

Monsieur de Mortemer talked enthusiastically about the castle and the treasures it contained.

"The Baron is a collector," he explained.

"He inherited many beautiful things and he has added to them. It will be my pleasure to show you some of the rare pieces here."

"Do you think the Baron will permit that?"

"I am sure he will. He will be gratified by your interest."

"I am a little concerned as to where I shall paint the miniature," said my father.

"Ah yes, indeed. The Baron has employed artists here before. He understands about the light which will be needed. Previously the work has been executed in what we call the Sunshine Room. That is a room we have here in that part of the castle which is the most modern, by which I mean it is seventeenth-century. It was built to let in the sun on all sides. It is high and there are windows in the roof. You will see it tomorrow. I think it will please."

"It sounds ideal," I said.

We talked desultorily on one or two other topics. The journey we had had, the countryside compared with that at home and so on, until finally he said: "You must be absolutely exhausted. Let me have you conducted to your rooms. I hope you will then have a good night and in the morning you will feel refreshed."

"Ready to meet the Baron," I added.

He smiled and his smile was very warn and friendly. I felt a glow of pleasure. I liked him. I liked him very much. I found his perfect grooming not in the least effeminate, only very pleasant. I thought he had a charming smile and although his implication that we bestowed a privilege on Centeville by being here might not be entirely sincere, it had certainly put us at our ease, and I liked him still more for that.

It was a relief to get into bed that night. I was very tired, for the journey and the apprehension as to what we should find at the end of it had exhausted me so completely that I was asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow.

I was awakened by a gentle tapping at the door. It was one of the maids bringing petit dejeuner which consisted of coffee, rolls of crusty bread with butter and confiture.

"I will bring you hot water in ten minutes, Mademoiselle," she told me.

I sat up in bed and drank the coffee, which was delicious. I was hungry enough to enjoy the rolls.

The sun was shining through the long narrow window and I felt a pleasurable sense of excitement. The real adventure was about to begin.

When I was washed and dressed I went to my father's room. He had been awakened when I had, and had enjoyed his coffee and rolls and was now ready.

Monsieur de Marnier appeared. He had instructions to take us to Monsieur de Mortemer when we were ready.

We followed him to that part of the castle where we had taken dinner on the previous evening. Bertrand de Mor temer was awaiting us in what I called the anteroom with the painted ceiling.

"Good morning," he said, smiling most agreeably.

"I trust you have slept comfortably."

We assured him that we had and were most grateful for all the concern of our wellbeing which was shown to us.

He spread his hands. It was nothing, he told us. Centeville was privileged.

"Now you will wish to see the Sunshine Room. Would you follow me."

We were delighted when we saw it.

It had been built by one of the Barons who had had an artist working in the castle on a permanent basis.

"Do you think it will suit you?"

asked Bertrand.

"It's perfect," I told him and my father agreed with me.

"So often one is expected to paint in rooms which are quite inadequate," he said.

"This will be just what we need."

"Perhaps you would like to arrange ... what has to be arranged.

Bring up the tools of your trade, as they say. "

I looked at my father.

"Let us do that," I said.

"Then we shall be all in readiness."

"Shall you start the portrait as soon as the Baron arrives?"

My father hesitated.

"I like to talk awhile with my subject first... to get to know him, you see."

"I am sure the Baron will understand that."

"Well, let us prepare," I said to my father.

"Do you think you can find your way back to your rooms?" asked Monsieur de Mortemer.

"We have to learn," I replied.

"Well, now that you have seen the Sunshine Room let me take you back.

After that you can find your own way, perhaps. "

"I shall note the landmarks as we pass through," I said with a smile.

to that room. It was what we would call in England a solarium and was of course ideal for our purpose. My father commented that everything was working out splendidly.

I thought he looked a little tired and I did notice once or twice that he blinked in the strong light of the room. I could see all sorts of obstacles about to rise before us. I could not quite picture how we were going to pretend he was painting the miniature when actually I was going to do it. It would certainly be a new and interesting way of working. I wondered how it would end.

It would be dreadful to produce something below Collison standards on such an important occasion.

When we had returned to our rooms I suggested that my father rest for a while. There was an hour or so before dejeuner and the journey and excitement of coming here had been a little too much for him.

I persuaded him to lie down and then thought I would like to look at the chateau from outside. I put on a hat and found my way down to the hall. There was the door through which we had entered on the previous night. I went through into the courtyard.

I did not want to leave the precincts of the castle so I did not cross the moat. I looked round and saw a door. I went through this anu was in a garden. I gathered I was at the back of the castle. Before me stretched out the undulating countryside with the woods in the distance. It was very beautiful. The gardens, which ran down to the water of the moat, had been carefully cultivated. Flowers grew in profusion with colours perfectly blended. Our Baron had a feeling for colour-unless of course he employed people to select them for him, which was most likely.

I went down to the moat's edge and sat down. What peace! I thought of Clare at home running the house and Evie far away in Africa. I was uneasy and kept assuring myself that there was nothing to be uneasy about. If the Baron disco R ve red that my father could no longer paint, and if he wanted a Collison, his only alternative was to take mine. And if he refused?

Well, then we should just return home.

I heard footsteps and turning sharply saw Bertrand de Mortemer coming towards me.

"Ah," he said as though surprised.

"Have you finished your preparations?"

"There is not much to do until the ... er ... subject arrives."

"Of course not." He sat down beside me.

"Well, now you have seen the castle by the light of morning what do you think of it?"

"Grand. Massive. Impressive. Overpowering. I can't think of any more adjectives."

"Those already supplied are sufficient."

He was looking at me steadily and I noticed that his handsome appearance had not diminished with daylight. Rather, I thought, was it accentuated.

"To think of one man owning all this ... it's rather staggering," I said.

"Not for the Baron. He was brought up to it. He's a scion of his forefathers. Wait until you meet him, then you'll understand."