King of the Castle Read Online Free PDF Page B

coming and somewhat peremptorily he was told it was not convenient. He died almost a year ago and as I have continued with work that was outstanding naturally I came in his place.”
    She looked as though such a procedure was far from natural and I secretly agreed with her. But I had no intention of betraying myself to her as she had betrayed herself to me.
    “You speak very good French for an Englishwoman.”
     
    “I am bilingual. My mother was French, my father English.”
    “That is fortunate … in the circumstances.”
    “In any circumstances it is fortunate to be in command of languages.”
    My mother had said I was too tutorial. It was a trait I should curb. I fancy it had increased since Father had died. He once said I was like a ship firing all guns to show I was equipped to defend myself just in case another should be preparing to open fire on me.
    “You are right, of course,” said Mademoiselle Dubois meekly.
    “This is the gallery where the pictures are.”
    I forgot her then. I was in a long room lightened by several windows, and on the walls . the pictures! Even in their neglect they were splendid, and a quick look was enough to show me that they were very valuable. They were chiefly of the French school. I recognized a Poussin and Lorrain side by side and was struck as never before by the cold discipline of one and the intense drama of the other. I revelled in the pure golden light of the Lorrain landscape and wanted to point out to the woman beside me that light and feathery brushwork which might have been learned from Titian, and how the dark pigments had been used over rich colour to give that wondrous effect of light and shade. And there was a Watteau . so delicate, arabesque and pastel. and yet somehow conveying by a mood the storm about to break. I walked as if in a trance from an early Boucher painted before his decline set in and a perfect example of the rococo style, to a gay erotic Fragonard.
    Then I was angry because they were all in need of urgent attention.
    How was it they had been allowed to get into this state! Some I could see had darkened badly; there was a dull foggy film on others which we called ‘bloom’. A few were scratched and streaked with water. The brown acid left by flies was visible; and in some places the paint

3i
    had flaked off. There were isolated burns as though some one had held a candle too closely.
    I moved silently from picture to picture forgetful of everything else.
    I calculated that there was almost a year’s work in what I had seen so far and there was probably a great deal more than that as there always was when one began to examine these things more closely.
    “You find them interesting,” said Mademoiselle Dubois rapidly.
    “I find them of immense interest, and certainly in need of attention.”
    “Then I suppose you will get down to work right away.”
    I turned to look at her.
    “It is by no means certain that I shall do the work. I am a woman, you see, and therefore not considered capable.”
    “It is unusual work for a woman.”
    “Indeed it is not. If one has a talent for this kind of work, one’s sex is of no importance whatever.”
    She laughed that foolish laugh.
    “But there is men’s work and women’s work.”
    “There are governesses and tutors, aren’t there?” I hoped I made it clear that I had no intention of continuing this aimless conversation, by changing the subject.
    “It depends of course on the Comte. If he is the man of prejudice”
    A voice not far off cried: “I want to see her. I tell you, Nounou, I will see her. Esquilles has been ordered to take her to the gallery.”
    I looked at Mademoiselle Dubois. Esquilles! Splinters! I saw the allusion; she must have heard herself called that often enough.
    A low soothing voice and then: “Let go, Nounou. You silly old woman.
    Do you think you can stop meY The door of the gallery was flung open and the girl whom I at once recognized as Genevieve de la Talle stood there.