The Burning Shore

IT, I wonder if Mama is watching, A

I am so happy that the general could come. isn't he a handsome man, A

Again A

Now that is a real man, she had told herself, as she watched Sean Courtney step down from the Rolls and come up the front staircase of the chdteau.

He looks so grand in his uniform and medals, Centaine went on. When Michel is older, I will insist that he grows a beard like that. So much presence There was another burst of laughter from below. He and Papa like each other, don't you think, A

I hope they leave some cognac for the other guests A

We should have laid out the blue Dresden service rather than the Sevres. It would have looked better with the pink roses. You should have thought of that yesterday, Centaine cut in quickly. I'm not going to go over all that again. The two of them had worked all the previous day and most of the night to reopen the grand salon which had been closed ever since the servants left. The draperies had been floury with dust, and the high ceilings so laced with cobwebs that the scenes from mythology that decorated them were almost obscured.

They had finished the cleaning red-eyed and sneezing before begi

The comte, protesting volubly, A veteran of Sedan and the army of the Third Empire forced to labour like a common varlet', had been dragooned in to assist.

Finally it had all been done. The salon once again splendid, the floor of intricately fitted and patterned wooden blocks glossy with wax, the nymphs and goddesses and fauns dancing and cavorting and chasing each other across the domed ceiling, the silver aglitter and the first of A

We should have made a few more pies, A

Have you locked the pantry? A

It's not the food they have come for so early in the day. Centaine joined her at the window. Papa has the keys to the cellar. They will be well taken care of. Her father was already halfway down the marble staircase to greet them, and the adjutant braked with such abruptness that two of his pilots landed in the front seat with him in a tangle of legs and arms.

I say, he cried in obvious relief at being once again at a standstill, you must be the jolly old count, what? We are the advance guard, how do you say it in French, le d'avant garde, don't you know? Ah, to be sure! The comte seized his hand. Our brave allies. You are welcome! Welcome! May I offer you a small glass of something? You see, A

She picked up the wedding veil from the bed and arranged it loosely over her head, and studied herself in the mirror.

This must be the happiest day of my life, she whispered. Nothing must happen to spoil it. Nothing will, my child, A

You will be the loveliest bride, what a pity that none of the gentry will be here to see you Enough, A

Everything is perfect. I would not have it any other way. She cocked her head slightly. A

Listen! He is coming this way! She could recognize the distinctive beat of the engine that she had so often listened for.

I don't see him. A

He must be very low, Centaine began. Yes! Yes! There he is, just above the forest. I see him. Is he going to the airfield in the orchard? No, not with this wind. I think he's coming this way. Is it him? Are you sure? Of course I'm sure, can't you see the colour? Mon petit jaune! Others had heard it also. There were voices below the window, and a dozen of the wedding guests trooped out through the french doors of the salon on to the terrace.

They were led by Sean Courtney in the full dress uniform of a British general, and the comte even more resplendent in the blue and gold of a colonel of the infantry of Napoleon I'll.

They all carried their glasses and their voices were raised in mounting spirits and cheerful camaraderie.

That's Michel all right, someone called. I'll bet he's going to give us a low-level beat-up. Take the roof off the chateau, you'll see! It should be a victory roll, considering what he's got in store.

Centaine found herself laughing with them, and she clapped her hands as she watched the yellow machine approaching, then her hands froze an instant before they came together.

A

What's he up to? The timbre of the voices from the terrace changed. By God, he's in trouble, I think The SE5a began a meandering, purposeless turn to starboard, and they could see the side of the damaged fuselage and the torn wing surfaces as it banked. It looked like the carcass of a fish that had been attacked by a pack of sharks.

He's been badly shot up! one of the pilots yelled.

Yes, he's hard hit. The SESa turned back too steeply, the nose dropped and almost hit the trees.

He's going to try for a forced landing! Some of the pilots jumped over the wall of the terrace and ran out on to the lawns, frantically signalling to the crippled aircraft.

This way, Michael! Keep the nose up, man!

Too slow! screamed anther. You'll stall her in! Open the throttle. Give her the gun! They shouted their futile advice, and the aircraft settled heavily towards the open lawns.

Michel, Centaine breathed, twisting the lace between her fingers and not even feeling it tear, come to me, Michel. There was one last row of trees, ancient copper beech, with the new leaf buds on their gnarled branches just begi