The Burning Shore

Forty thousand hectares! The comte breathed reverently, and then, and, of course, you have many brothers? Michael shook his head. No, unfortunately I am an only son. Ha! said the comte with transparent relief. Do not feel too badly about that! I And patted his arm in a paternal gestur The comte shot a glance at his daughter, and for the first time recognized the expression on her face as she looked at the airman.

Quite right too, he thought comfortably. Forty thousand hectares, and an only son! His daughter was a Frenchwoman, and knew the value of a sou. and a franc, sacrg bleu, she knew it better than he did himself. He smiled lovingly across the table at her. A child in many ways, but a shrewd young Frenchwoman in others. Since the comte's factor had fled to Paris, leaving the accounts and books of the estate in chaos, it had been Centaine who had taken over the purse-strings. The comte had never bothered much with money anyway, for him land would always remain the only true wealth, but his daughter was the clever one. She even counted the bottles in the cellar and the hams on the smoke-rack. He took a mouthful of red wine and mused happily to himself.

There would be so few eligible young men left after this slaughter, this charnel-house ... and forty thousand hectares!

Cherie, he said. If the captain were to take the shotgun and get us a few fat pigeon, and you were to fill a basket with truffles, you might still find some, what a di

A

The pig was named Kaiser Wilhelm, or Klein Willie, for short. He was a piebald boar, so gross that as he waddled into the oak forest, he reminded Michael of a bull hippopotamus. His pointed ears drooped forward over his eyes and his tail curled like a roll of barbed wire up over his back, exposing ample evidence of his gender, contained in a bright pink sac that looked as though it had been boiled in oil.

Willie! Cherchel cried Centaine and A

Deeper into the forest they came across a narrow stream, ru

He's found one! Centaine shrieked with excitement and she and A

Michel! she panted over her shoulder. When we get him away, you must be very quick with the spade. Are you ready? Ready! From the pocket of her skirt Centaine pulled a wizened nub of a truffle that was mildewed with age. She pared off a sliver with a clasp knife, and held as close to the boar's snout as she could reach. For a few moments the pig ignored her, and then it got the fresher scent of the cut truffle and grunted gluttonously, tried to take her hand in his streaming jaws. Centaine jerked away and backed off with the boar following her.

,Quickly, Michel! she cried, and he went at the earth with the spade. In half a dozen strokes he had exposed the buried fungus and A

Look, what a beauty! At last Centaine allowed the pig to take the sliver of fungus from her fingers, and when he had gulped it, she let him return to the empty hole and snuffle around in the loose earth to satisfy himself that the truffle had disappeared, then Cherche! she shouted at him, and the hunt was on again. Within an hour the small basket was filled with the unappetizing-looking lumpy fungi, and A

More than this will merely spoil. Now for some pigeons. Let's see if our captain from Africa can shoodThey hurried after the boar, laughing and panting back through the open fields to the chAteau, where Centaine locked the truffles in the pantry and A

For Michael's part he was surprised and then delighted to discover that the weapon was a venerable Holland and Holland, only the English gunsmiths could fashion a barrel that would throw a perfectly even pattern of shot no matter how fast the gun was traversed.

He nodded at A

I will show you a good place. Centaine took his hand to lead him and then saw A

They skirted the edge of the forest, Centaine leading and lifting her skirts over the mud puddles so that Michael had an occasional flash of her smooth white calves, and his pulse accelerated beyond the exertion of keeping up with her. On her short, stubby legs, A

The pigeons come in from there, Centaine pointed across the open fields and vineyards, all of them overgrown and neglected. We should wait here The hedgerow afforded excellent cover, and when A

There, he said, coming straight in. I don't see them. Centaine searched agitatedly. Where - oh yes, now I see them. Although they were quick on the wing, they were flying straight and descending only gently towards the forest.

For a marksman of Michael's calibre, it was simple shooting. He waited until two birds overlapped each other, and took them both with his first shot. They crumpled in midair and as the rest of the flock flared up and scattered, he knocked down a third pigeon in a burst of feathers with his second barrel.

The two women raced out into the open field to bring in the birds.

Three with two shots. Centaine came back and stood close beside him, stroking the soft warm body of the dead pigeon and looking up at Michael.

It was a fluke, said A

Another fluke, she gloated. What luck the captain is having today. Two more flocks came within range in the next half hour, and Centaine asked seriously, Do you never miss, Mijnheer? Up there, Michael looked into the sky, if you miss, you are dead. So far I have never missed. Centaine shivered. Death, that word again. Death was all around them, on the ridges over there were for the moment the sound of the guns was just a low rumble, death in the sky above them. She looked at Michael and thought, I don't want him to die, never! Never! Then she shook herself, driving away the gloom, and she smiled and said, Teach me to shoot. The request was inspired. It allowed Michael to touch her, even under A