You are going to get better. You will have lots of rest, lots of good soups and porridge and stay off the sleeping draft and painkillers.

For the next two weeks you will stay here, then you will go back and face the..." he had smiled kindly, "the future with confidence."

"I'm very lucky to have you as a doctor."

"I'm very lucky to have you as a friend."

"Did you get a letter from her too?"' "Yes." A dry laugh. "I did now that I think of it."

"And?"' Hoag had rolled his eyes. "Enough said?"' "Yes. Thanks."

Now, watching her dancing, center of a universal admiration, and lust, breasts in large part fashionably revealed, slender ankles enticing eyes to seek further under the billowing hoops of apricot silk, he felt himself hardening. Thank God for that, he thought, much of his rage evaporating, at least that's working, but, Christ, I know I won't be able to wait until Christmas. I won't.

It was nearing midnight now and she sipped champagne and hid behind her fan, fluttering it in a practiced manner, teasing those around her, then gave the glass away as though bestowing a gift, made her apologies and went gliding back to her chair that was beside Struan. Close by was an animated group of Seratard, Sir William, Hoag, other Ministers, and Poncin. "La, Monsieur Andr`e, your playing is superb.

Isn't that so, Malcolm darling?"

"Yes, superb," Struan said, not feeling good at all, trying to cover it. Hoag glanced over at him.

In French she was saying, "Andr`e, where have you been hiding the last few days?" She looked over her fan at him. "If we were in Paris I would swear that you had given your heart to a new ladyfriend."

Poncin said lightly, "Just work, Mademoiselle."

Then, in English, "Ah, sad. Paris in the fall is especially wonderful, almost as breathtaking as spring. Oh, wait till I show it to you, Malcolm. We should spend a season there, no?" She was standing close to him, and she felt his arm go loosely around her waist, she rested her arm lightly on his shoulder and toyed with his long hair. The touch pleased her, his face handsome and clothes handsome and the ring he had given her this morning, a diamond with other diamonds surrounding it, delighting her. She glanced at it, twisting it, admiring it, wondering how much it was worth. "Ah, Malcolm, you will enjoy Paris, in season, it's truly wonderful. Could we?"

"Why not, if you'd like to."

She sighed, her fingers discreetly caressing his neck, and said as though taken by a sudden thought, "Perhaps, do you think, cheri, do you think we could honeymoon there--we could dance the night away." "Your dancing is a delight, Mademoiselle, in whatever city," Hoag said, sweating and uncomfortable in his overtight clothes.

"Wish I could say the same for mine. May I sugg--"

"You don't dance at all, Doctor?"

"Years ago, when I was in India I did, but stopped when my wife died. She really enjoyed it so much that now I can't enjoy it at all.

Marvelous party, Malcolm. May I suggest we call it a night?"

Angelique glanced up at him, her smile fading, noticed the caution on his face, looked at Malcolm and saw the exhaustion. How awful he's so sick, she thought. Damn!

"It's still early," Malcolm was saying bravely, longing to lie down, "isn't it, Angelique?"

"I must confess I really am tired too," she said at once. Her fan closed, she put it down, smiled at him, Poncin and the others, preparing to leave. "Perhaps we could slip out and let the party continue..."

They made their quiet apologies to those around them. Everyone else pretended not to notice them leave but in her wake was emptiness. Outside at the door she stopped a moment. "Oh la la, I forgot my fan. I'll catch you up, my darling."

She hurried back. Poncin intercepted her.

"Mademoiselle," he said in French. "I believe this is yours."

"Ah, you're so kind." She accepted her fan, delighted that her stratagem had worked and that he was as observant as she had hoped. As he bent over her hand to kiss it she whispered in French, "I must see you tomorrow."

"Legation at noon, ask for Seratard, he won't be there."

She was brushing her hair in front of her mirror, still humming the last waltz she had danced. Which was the best? she asked herself. The best dance? That's easy, Marlowe and the polka, better than Pallidar and waltzes--you should waltz only with the love of your life, allowing the music to swim your head with adoration and longing, drifting you on the clouds, tingling and wanting as I am tonight, the best day of my life, engaged to a fine man and loved by him to distraction.

It should be the best day, but isn't.

Strange that I enjoyed this evening, and can act and think calmly, when already the day has passed, I'm overdue so probably with child of a rapist that must be ended.

She was watching her reflection as though it was another person, the brushstrokes firm, titillating her scalp and head and taking away any cobwebs, astonished that she was still alive and outwardly the same after so much agony.

Curious. Every day after the first has seemed easier.

Why is that?

I don't know. Well, never mind. Tomorrow will solve the overdue though perhaps even now I shall begin in the night and there will have been no need for all the fear and crying and crying and more fear. Tens of thousands of women have been trapped like I am trapped and still have been made whole without hurt.

Just a little drink and everything as before and no one the wiser. Except you and God! Except you and the doctor, or you and the midwife--or witch.

Enough for tonight, Angelique. Trust in God and the Blessed Mother. The Blessed Mother will help you, you are blameless. You are openly engaged to a marvelous man, somehow you will be married and live happily ever after. Tomorrow... tomorrow will begin the where and how.

Behind her Ah Soh was tidying the four-poster, picking up her stockings and underwear. The crinoline already hung on a rack with two others, and half a dozen new day dresses still wrapped in their sheaves of rice paper. Through the open window came the sound of laughter and drunken singing, and music from the Club that still showed no sign of abating.

She sighed, wanting to be back at the dance.

The brush moved more vigorously.

"Miss'y wan thing, heya?"

"No. Want to sleep."

"Ni'te Miss'y."

Angelique bolted the door after her. The connecting door to Struan's suite was closed but unbolted. By custom, as soon as she had finished her toilet, she would knock, then go and kiss him good night, perhaps chat just a little and return again, leaving the door ajar in case he had a seizure in the night. These were infrequent now, though since he had stopped the night medicine a week ago, he was very restless, hardly sleeping, but never demanding.

Again she sat at her mirror and was pleased with what she saw. Her peignoir was silk and lacy and Parisian--a locally made copy of one she had brought with her:... and you cannot believe the workmanship, Colette, or the speed of the Chinese tailor, she had written this afternoon for tomorrow's mail ship.

Now I can get anything copied. Please send me some patterns, or cuttings from La Parisienne or L'Haute Couture of the latest styles or anything wonderful--my Malcolm is so generous and so rich! He says I can order what I like!

And my ring!!!! A diamond with fourteen smaller ones around it. I asked him how on earth he had got it and where in Yokohama and he just smiled. I really must be more careful and not ask silly questions. Colette everything is so marvelous except I'm worried about his health. He improves so slowly and walks very badly. But his ardor increases, poor man, and I have to take care... Must dress for the party now but I'll write more before the post. My everlasting love for the moment.