— Episode Sixteen —

The True Story of Our Marriage

At last, on the third of May, I received a telephone call from George Allen in London, informing me that my divorce had now become certain... I got in touch at once with David, who was staying in Austria, and he answered with some enthusiasm: the train would pass his way in the afternoon, and he would be at "Candé" on the morning of the next day.

I went out for a walk that afternoon in the company of Katherine Rogers... This woman was thoughtful and kind at once: "Remember that he has borne a great deal in these past days, and suffered much, and he may appear to your eyes other than the person you knew before..."

She said it without agitation; and I was in fact afraid for him, not for myself; I wondered whether that shock had crushed the sweet, merry spirit I had known!...

David arrived at lunchtime, accompanied by "Dudley Forwood." He was thin and pale, and yet I had not expected to see him in any other state; but by his behavior he wanted to convince me that he was cheerful, and that his laughter rang through the air of our life as in the days gone by... The first words with which he greeted me were: "A long time has passed in which I have not set eyes on you, beloved; I can hardly believe that this is you, and that I am here, before you..."

And it was truly a wonderful thing to meet once more: after each of us had faced his troubles alone, it had become possible for us to face them together. And since David's brother had decided that his coronation ceremony would be on May 12, we felt it necessary to postpone the date of the wedding until the month of June...

On the morning of the coronation, David mentioned in the course of conversation that he would listen to the proceedings of the ceremony from the London station: "I want to be with my brother in spirit."

And in the château of "Candé" we gathered in silence around the radio, as though in the presence of a deity. David had heard the rites of the ceremony twice in his life: once when his grandfather was crowned, and again on the day of his father's coronation. Was he thinking of those two occasions? Or was he imagining himself in the church? He said nothing of all this; he was silent, and the words of the ceremony passed over me like a roaring wave, and I struggled until I had strangled every thought; but the imagined pictures of what might have happened kept streaming through my head...

At last the gathering broke up and we were left alone, and David turned to me and said quietly: "You must never feel regret, for I myself have none... All I know is that my happiness is never parted

The wedding cake was the work of my cook.

We were always the focus of attention of the men of the press and the photographers