‘Certainly, certainly. I quite understand. And she too will be amazed.’
‘God bless, now, Stanislas.’
He passed through the wicket into a fine broad court, somewhat marred by a twenty-foot stretch of tall grey stone wall fallen into it and the skeleton of a two-ton sloop shored up by the central fountain. Beyond the court the house spread in the brilliant sun before him had two low wings, a three-storey centre with a classical portico and a fine flight of steps, many of them whole.
He had almost reached them – there was a curious liverwort growing between the joints – when the door itself opened and Diana’s voice called ‘Are you the bread?’
‘I am not,’ said Stephen.
She emerged from the darkness, shading her eyes, cried ‘Stephen, my love, is it you?’ flew down the steps, missed the last and plunged into his arms, tears running fast.
They sat there, pressed close, and she said ‘You have the wildest way of suddenly appearing when my mind is filled with your name and even your image. But Stephen my dear you are so yellow and thin. Do they feed you at all? Have you been ill? You are on leave, I am sure. You must stay here a great while and the Colonel will fill you out with salmon, smoked eels and trout – he will be in before dinner. Lord, I am so happy to see you, my dear. Come now and rest; it is destroyed you are looking. Come up to my bed.’
Must I come to your bed?’
‘Of course you must come to my bed: and you are never to leave it again. Stephen, you must never go to sea any more.’
The End