Free Stranger at the Gates by Evelyn Anthony

flanked by stags. The General occupied the royal apartments; he took his meals with his officers in the state dining room, at a refectory table twenty feet long, with Renaissance candelabra and superb tapestries; he had insisted on having the original four-poster bed fitted with a proper mattress so that he might sleep in it. There was a large contemporary portrait of Diane de Poitiers which had been moved from the marble hall into the General’s sitting room.
    It showed her in the guise of Diana the huntress, naked and voluptuous, the crescent moon, symbol of the goddess, gleaming in her hair. The General liked to sit and stare at it, entranced. It was not a picture that aroused any sensual response in Heinz Minden. Nude voluptuaries were not his type.
    Whereas the slim and elegant Comtesse de Bernard would have driven him to any folly. When he first came to the Château St. Blaize, she had avoided him, making no secret of her hostility. Being a man of sensitivity he appreciated her resentment and made himself as unobtrusive as possible. He thought the Comtesse the most sexually attractive woman he had met in his life. When she walked into a room or stood near him, he broke out into a fine sweat; his hands, normally so sure and steady, trembled. He lay awake at night, forgetting his pretty wife with whom he had been so happy and dreamed hot, lustful dreams of possessing the Comtesse in unlikely erotic situations. He was a patient man and doggedly determined. He wanted her and as the weeks went by and she was forced by circumstances into accepting him, he felt that one day his desire would be realised.
    He set out to be a benefactor; he made friends with the two children, whom he genuinely liked, and was flattered by their response. He even went up and talked to the old Comte; he brought presents for Jean de Bernard, choosing those luxuries which he knew were unobtainable on the open market. Cognac, champagne, cigars. He ordered his batman to help the two servants, he made himself part of the family in spite of themselves and little by little he was taken for granted. When he first arrived, Louise de Bernard used to leave the salon rather than sit in his presence. Now she talked to him over the dinner table, and it wasn’t long before he sensed the deep hostility which she felt towards her husband. Minden was not a particularly immoral or ruthless man. He had his own code, which was ethical and middle class. He wouldn’t have deliberately put himself between husband and wife. But this wife, whom he wanted to the point of agony, didn’t even share a room with her husband. The batman had soon discovered that. The knowledge diminished the stature of the Comte de Bernard in his eyes. No self-respecting man would have allowed his wife to lock him out. Minden, normally mild and considerate, with an exaggerated view of women’s frailty, would have soon put an end to the attempt. The situation increased his hope of ultimate success. She must be lonely; she was young and beautiful and living like a nun. He brought her a present of scent at Christmas, and began very carefully to disclose his interest in her. He had to be careful, because she was spirited, and a premature move would spoil his chances.
    He treated her with friendliness and courtesy, but he let her know, by a touch against her, a smile when she came into the room, by the scent which was the most expensive and exotic he could buy, that he found her irresistibly attractive, and that the moment she held out her hand, he would be there.
    He went to the window, after switching off the lights and opened it wide. He knew the value of fresh air for healthy sleep; for a moment he looked out over the countryside, illumined by the same bright moon Louise had seen two hours before.
    There was a red glow to the left, a finger of fiery orange in the middle of it. He leaned out, and on the wind he smelt smoke. There was a fire in St. Blaize. He watched for a few