CHAPTER FOUR“Une fleur pour Mademoiselle,” Jean-Pierre said holding out a primrose he had picked in the wood.
“Une fleur pour Mademoiselle“Thank you, Jean-Pierre!” Larisa replied, “but say it in English. Please say it in English.”
He looked at her for a moment with his head on one side, then he said slowly,
“But-ter-fly,”
“No, no, Jean-Pierre. That is wrong,” Larisa said. “Try again.”
With a smile that she thought had a touch of mischief in it, Jean-Pierre said quickly,
“Good morn-ing! Good morn-ing!” and ran away between the trees.
Larisa gave a sigh that was half-frustration and half-despair.
She had been at the Château Valmont for two weeks and she had managed to teach Jean-Pierre exactly two words in English.
He applied the word ‘butterfly’ to anything that moved.
She had tau
