Libre Read Free Page A

it.
    “Oh, a perfect chevalier, dearest. He speaks
French like a Parisian, he sends to Paris for his boots – he really
does, p’tit, Nathalie Grillot’s mother checked – Bourdet makes his
coats, the best in town, but it’s all show. Maman Grillot – and
Agnes Pellicot – both looked into his finances when he seemed to be
showing an interest in Nathalie and in Marie-Therese, and learned
that he’s always borrowing from somewhere-or-other to invest in
lands that he turns around and mortgages to invest in steamboat
shares, but at the bottom he’s not worth the horseshoes on a dead
horse. And he owes money to God and all His saints – to every
shirtmaker and tobacconist and hatmaker in town. But men are
impressed – bankers, and investors, I mean, and tavernkeepers,
who’re the ones who control votes. Henri’s mama—” Henri was
Dominique’s protector, son of the truly formidable Widow Viellard –
says Nicholas Saverne tries even harder to impress the Americans,
and that he’s spoken of running for Congress.”
    “He may well succeed,” remarked Hannibal,
returning from a trip to the unguarded buffet, a bottle of
champagne in hand. As a white man – albeit an outcast – he ran less
of a risk for helping himself. “Americans seem to be impressed by
the show of wealth and aren’t as careful about checking on a man as
Mama Grillot and Agnes Pellicot.”
    “Handsome?” January asked.
    Dominique shrugged coquettishly. “If you like
all your goods in the shop window.”
    “Does Marie-Zulieka love him?”
    The young woman’s eyes lost their surface
brightness as her delicate brows tugged together; from playful
bubbliness, her expression shifted, thoughtful and a little sad. “I
don’t think Zozo really loves anyone… except Lucie, of course, and
that frightful old tutor of hers, M’sieu Vouziers. One would
think when a girl’s finished with her governess’s lessons she’d be
glad to toss her books into the river – Heaven knows I was.
But when has any man stopped courting a pretty girl just because
she tells him she isn’t interested? He always thinks he can make her interested. And if that girl’s about to be pushed
into an arrangement with the likes of Jules Dutuille—”
    “What’s wrong with Jules Dutuille?”
    “He drinks,” responded Dominique promptly.
“Oh, all men drink, of course – I think they’d go insane if they
couldn’t…”
    “I certainly would,” put in Hannibal.
    “Well, all you do when you drink is recite
poetry nobody understands, and then fall asleep, cher .”
Dominique reached over to pat Hannibal’s thin cheek. “You’re very
sweet about it. You don’t say cruel things, or destroy one’s
letters from one’s family, or kill one’s pets… My maid’s
sweetheart’s cousin is a maid in Dutuille’s household, you see, and
anyway everyone knows about Dutuille.”
    “I don’t.”
    “That’s because you’re serious and
hard-working and have no time for idle chatter in the cafés.” She
flashed him a dazzling smile, which sobered again at the
recollection of things she had heard. “He never lets his wife see
her family – they live up in St. Francisville — nor his son’s wife;
they go in terror of his rages. He’s tried three or four times, to
come to an arrangement with a mistress, but Babette Figes begged
her mother not to conclude the contract with him, and so did
Cresside Morisset. Only Zozo couldn’t refuse him, you see, because
her father was in business with him. So yes, she could have run off
with Nicholas, only I don’t think she did.”
    “Why not?” asked January, curious, though it
was a conclusion he’d already arrived at.
    Dominique shrugged again. “Because if she had
she’d have taken her jewels, silly! That appalling ruby parure is
worth over a thousand dollars! With his debts, he’d never have let
her pass up that chance. On the other hand…”
    She hesitated, and January finished softly,
“On the other hand, Nicholas