mighty drastic.”
“Are they fighting?” Judith asked.
“Yes, there’ve been several clashes between colonial troops and the royal garrisons.” He chuckled. “It almost makes me wish I was back home.”
“Why Philip! You wouldn’t bear arms against the king! What about the oath you swore when you got your grant in Louisiana?”
“I wouldn’t keep my promises if he didn’t keep his, honey. A good hearty rebellion might teach them a lesson in London. The colonials aren’t claiming to be anything but subjects of the king even now—nobody has asked for independence.”
“Independence? I think that’s ridiculous. I was born English and I hope I’ll die English.” Judith stopped and glanced at Gervaise, afraid she had been tactless since Gervaise had not had the good fortune to be born a subject of George the Third. But Gervaise was laughing.
“Chère,” she said, “I have changed my country three times already and I am but eighteen years old. New Orleans was French when I was born, then King Louis gave us to Spain and they put up new flags in the Place d’Armes and after that I married and came up here to live, so now I am English, and what I shall be before I die I don’t know, but I know this—”
“What, Gervaise?” Philip asked when she paused. He was laughing too.
“That in Louisiana, Mr. Philip Larne, you are asking a great deal when you ask to die in the same country you were born in. Is that treason?”
“It’s food for philosophy, ma’am.”
“And now I will send you coffee.” She went into the house.
Philip smiled down at Judith. “Are you glad you’re finally coming home?”
She nodded. “I’ve missed you so terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too, honey.” He grinned mischievously. “Your father and brother are going to meet us at Ardeith. Maybe now they’ll be persuaded I didn’t utterly ruin your life by taking you away from them.”
Judith rubbed her cheek against his satin sleeve. “I don’t care what they think. Let’s go in and tell Angelique to pack my things.”
Judith was bubbling with eagerness. But she had not expected such a house as he took her to that day.
She saw it behind the oaks as the carriage shook over the Ardeith trail. Even before she got close to it she realized triumphantly that her house was bigger and grander than the Purcells’. It was shining, bright pink behind its white gallery, and she saw that it had three entrances instead of one, for it had three halls lengthwise and one crosswise and two rooms front and back between the arms of the crosses, making sixteen rooms in all, not counting the slave-quarters built sideways at the back. Judith stepped over the threshold of the main entrance, followed by the nurse carrying her baby, and after her came her father and Caleb, and after them the Purcells. She gasped, unprepared for such splendor of space and pink walls and cunningly devised crosscurrents of air. Through the open doors she could see slave-made furniture with turned legs and cane bottoms. For a moment she stood speechless, a sob of joy rising within her as she thought of the cabin that had stood here last year, and she turned and looked at her father’s astonished face and the envying admiration of Gervaise, and Philip proud as a king showing off his realm. Her voice choked as she exclaimed :
“Oh Philip, Philip darling, I never expected real glass in the windows!”
Philip tucked an arm around her as he turned to the others. “Come see the rest of it.”
He showed them the master bedroom, where there stood a bed so big four people could have slept on it as comfortably as two. Across the hall was the nursery, with a cot for the nurse and a cradle made of woven canes. “And look,” said Philip, leading them back to the bedroom. Over the bed hung a cord that ran across the ceiling under a series of loops, and through the wall to a bell hanging in Angelique’s room. “So you can call her for coffee in the morning
“Are they fighting?” Judith asked.
“Yes, there’ve been several clashes between colonial troops and the royal garrisons.” He chuckled. “It almost makes me wish I was back home.”
“Why Philip! You wouldn’t bear arms against the king! What about the oath you swore when you got your grant in Louisiana?”
“I wouldn’t keep my promises if he didn’t keep his, honey. A good hearty rebellion might teach them a lesson in London. The colonials aren’t claiming to be anything but subjects of the king even now—nobody has asked for independence.”
“Independence? I think that’s ridiculous. I was born English and I hope I’ll die English.” Judith stopped and glanced at Gervaise, afraid she had been tactless since Gervaise had not had the good fortune to be born a subject of George the Third. But Gervaise was laughing.
“Chère,” she said, “I have changed my country three times already and I am but eighteen years old. New Orleans was French when I was born, then King Louis gave us to Spain and they put up new flags in the Place d’Armes and after that I married and came up here to live, so now I am English, and what I shall be before I die I don’t know, but I know this—”
“What, Gervaise?” Philip asked when she paused. He was laughing too.
“That in Louisiana, Mr. Philip Larne, you are asking a great deal when you ask to die in the same country you were born in. Is that treason?”
“It’s food for philosophy, ma’am.”
“And now I will send you coffee.” She went into the house.
Philip smiled down at Judith. “Are you glad you’re finally coming home?”
She nodded. “I’ve missed you so terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too, honey.” He grinned mischievously. “Your father and brother are going to meet us at Ardeith. Maybe now they’ll be persuaded I didn’t utterly ruin your life by taking you away from them.”
Judith rubbed her cheek against his satin sleeve. “I don’t care what they think. Let’s go in and tell Angelique to pack my things.”
Judith was bubbling with eagerness. But she had not expected such a house as he took her to that day.
She saw it behind the oaks as the carriage shook over the Ardeith trail. Even before she got close to it she realized triumphantly that her house was bigger and grander than the Purcells’. It was shining, bright pink behind its white gallery, and she saw that it had three entrances instead of one, for it had three halls lengthwise and one crosswise and two rooms front and back between the arms of the crosses, making sixteen rooms in all, not counting the slave-quarters built sideways at the back. Judith stepped over the threshold of the main entrance, followed by the nurse carrying her baby, and after her came her father and Caleb, and after them the Purcells. She gasped, unprepared for such splendor of space and pink walls and cunningly devised crosscurrents of air. Through the open doors she could see slave-made furniture with turned legs and cane bottoms. For a moment she stood speechless, a sob of joy rising within her as she thought of the cabin that had stood here last year, and she turned and looked at her father’s astonished face and the envying admiration of Gervaise, and Philip proud as a king showing off his realm. Her voice choked as she exclaimed :
“Oh Philip, Philip darling, I never expected real glass in the windows!”
Philip tucked an arm around her as he turned to the others. “Come see the rest of it.”
He showed them the master bedroom, where there stood a bed so big four people could have slept on it as comfortably as two. Across the hall was the nursery, with a cot for the nurse and a cradle made of woven canes. “And look,” said Philip, leading them back to the bedroom. Over the bed hung a cord that ran across the ceiling under a series of loops, and through the wall to a bell hanging in Angelique’s room. “So you can call her for coffee in the morning
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