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Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. The girl only smiled at him serenely, but she laid her hand for a moment quietly upon his. He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. “To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions.
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