It didn’t worry me; I just stood where I was. He’d come up to me and I’d stand there, looking up at him, smiling, and he’d give me a pat on the cheek ... Later on, when I was sixteen, whenever Berthe wanted to ask him a favour, it was always me she sent to speak to him. I’d go up to him, look him straight in the face and say what I’d come to say. I could feel his eyes looking right into me. I wasn’t bothered, because I knew he’d say yes to everything I asked for! ... I can see it now ... Doinville! When I close my eyes, it all comes back — every tree in the park, every corridor, every room in the house.’

She fell silent, and sat with her eyes closed. A quiver seemed to run over her hot, flushed face, as she remembered those days gone by, and things she dared not tell him. She remained lost in thought; a little tremor moved across her lips, pulling at the corner of her mouth.

‘He’s certainly been very good to you,’ said Roubaud, lighting his pipe. ‘He brought you up like a young lady, he made sure your little bit of money went straight into a savings account and he even added to it himself when we got married. Apparently, he’s going to leave you something in his will.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Séverine, ‘the house at La Croix-de-Maufras. They built the railway through the grounds. We used to go and spend a week there sometimes. I’m not really counting on it. I dare say the Lachesnayes have made sure he leaves me nothing. Anyway, I don’t want anything. I don’t want him to leave me a thing!’

This was said with such conviction that Roubaud was amazed. He took his pipe from his mouth and stared at her round-eyed.

‘I can’t make you out sometimes,’ he said. ‘Everybody knows the President’s worth millions. What’s wrong with him leaving something to his goddaughter? Who could take exception to that? We’d have it made!’

A thought occurred to him which made him laugh out loud.

‘You’re not frightened people might think you’re his daughter are you? You know what they say about Grandmorin. It doesn’t bear repeating, some of it. He’s certainly no saint! Apparently, even when his wife was alive he managed to have his way with all the maids. He’s a randy old sod. He’ll still jump into bed with the first woman that takes his fancy ... Anyway, what the hell! Even if you are his daughter, who cares!’

Séverine leaped to her feet, red with anger, looking all about her with big blue, frightened eyes, her hair falling across her face in thick black strands.

‘Me, his daughter! How dare you! I won’t have you making jokes like that, do you hear! How could I be his daughter? Do I look like him? I’ve had enough of this; let’s change the subject. I didn’t want to go to Doinville because I didn’t! And that’s all there is to it! I want to go back to Le Havre with you.’

Roubaud nodded and raised his hands to try to calm her down. Why insist if it was going to make her so upset? He smiled. He had never seen her get so worked up. It must have been the wine, he thought.