squares painted upon the inner lid, and they whiled away the rest of the long wait by playing at soldiers. Neither of them was very good at the game, but any distraction was welcome.
At last they reached the end of the line, presented their papers, and after a great deal of useless deliberation received a surly nod from the guardian at the gate. A second stalwart waved the carriage through. Even a country in revolution had to make a living, and even those who despised the new French government could not dispute the excellence of the old French wines.
* * * *
Zoe found herself at the front window once more. It was foolish to keep coming back here, looking out. What was she searching for? Better to stay within the confines of the house and pretend that the world outside was as it had been before the Revolution ... not an easy world, but one where a girl could grow into a woman, be courted and wed, and have some hope of a future.
She had known a few young men who might have been suitors. They were gone now, one to the Navy, two to the Army. Another had vanished, no one knew where. She wondered about Louis, sometimes, but she knew in her heart he was dead. Louis’ entire family had disappeared. His father had been a professor, and involved in politics. Now no one mentioned his name.
A carriage, heavily laden, rolled down the street and drew up at Monfort's wine shop, a few doors down the road. The luggage strapped on behind meant that this was not one of M. Monfort's local customers, and she had never seen the vehicle before. As she watched, a guard jumped down from the roof and opened the passenger door, and a giant emerged—a tall blond man, English by his clothing. He was followed by another young man, less imposing but beautifully dressed and very handsome, with hair the color of dark caramel. After a word with the coachman and some sort of payment, he followed the tall man into Monfort's shop.
Zoe let herself daydream. That beautiful young man had to be someone of importance, or the son of an aristocratic family. Sir Handsome Englishman would find himself afflicted with a touch of dyspepsia and consult the excellent Dr. Colbert, and fall instantly in love with his daughter, and whisk them both away in his elegant carriage!
Bonjour, milord! Je suis Mademoiselle Zoe Colbert, une jeune lunatique! She didn't need Marie to scold her. Beautiful the young man might be, and well-to-do, and most probably engaged to some English girl of good family. And in any case, whatever business brought him to France would certainly never bring him under this roof.
Nonetheless, she stayed at the window until the two young men had left Monfort's and driven away in their carriage. Then she straightened her cap and went downstairs to see if Marie needed help in the kitchen. Papa would be home soon, God willing; she would appeal to him once again to give her permission to go to Angelique's party. There might be some young man there who would be worth a kiss, at least. And maybe something more?
Of that, she could not be sure. She was not entirely certain what it was she was looking for. But she knew that she would never find it hiding here at home until the soldiers came to take them to the guillotine.
* * * *
"A party!” Kit contained his disbelief until the carriage was rattling down the street. “Good Lord, Phil, what do they have to celebrate?"
"They're still alive,” Philip said. “Who knows for how much longer? Eat, drink, and be merry. But, as Monfort told me while you were dutifully inspecting your mama's order, a few of his customers are throwing a party to celebrate one of their members’ stage debut. She's in some theatre chorus and the actress she understudies came down with laryngitis. The matinee is tomorrow afternoon, if the Citizens’ Committee lets the theatre stay open."
"Are they likely to close it?"
"Who knows? At any rate, Monfort says it's his farewell lagniappe to his favorite customers—he's donating the
At last they reached the end of the line, presented their papers, and after a great deal of useless deliberation received a surly nod from the guardian at the gate. A second stalwart waved the carriage through. Even a country in revolution had to make a living, and even those who despised the new French government could not dispute the excellence of the old French wines.
* * * *
Zoe found herself at the front window once more. It was foolish to keep coming back here, looking out. What was she searching for? Better to stay within the confines of the house and pretend that the world outside was as it had been before the Revolution ... not an easy world, but one where a girl could grow into a woman, be courted and wed, and have some hope of a future.
She had known a few young men who might have been suitors. They were gone now, one to the Navy, two to the Army. Another had vanished, no one knew where. She wondered about Louis, sometimes, but she knew in her heart he was dead. Louis’ entire family had disappeared. His father had been a professor, and involved in politics. Now no one mentioned his name.
A carriage, heavily laden, rolled down the street and drew up at Monfort's wine shop, a few doors down the road. The luggage strapped on behind meant that this was not one of M. Monfort's local customers, and she had never seen the vehicle before. As she watched, a guard jumped down from the roof and opened the passenger door, and a giant emerged—a tall blond man, English by his clothing. He was followed by another young man, less imposing but beautifully dressed and very handsome, with hair the color of dark caramel. After a word with the coachman and some sort of payment, he followed the tall man into Monfort's shop.
Zoe let herself daydream. That beautiful young man had to be someone of importance, or the son of an aristocratic family. Sir Handsome Englishman would find himself afflicted with a touch of dyspepsia and consult the excellent Dr. Colbert, and fall instantly in love with his daughter, and whisk them both away in his elegant carriage!
Bonjour, milord! Je suis Mademoiselle Zoe Colbert, une jeune lunatique! She didn't need Marie to scold her. Beautiful the young man might be, and well-to-do, and most probably engaged to some English girl of good family. And in any case, whatever business brought him to France would certainly never bring him under this roof.
Nonetheless, she stayed at the window until the two young men had left Monfort's and driven away in their carriage. Then she straightened her cap and went downstairs to see if Marie needed help in the kitchen. Papa would be home soon, God willing; she would appeal to him once again to give her permission to go to Angelique's party. There might be some young man there who would be worth a kiss, at least. And maybe something more?
Of that, she could not be sure. She was not entirely certain what it was she was looking for. But she knew that she would never find it hiding here at home until the soldiers came to take them to the guillotine.
* * * *
"A party!” Kit contained his disbelief until the carriage was rattling down the street. “Good Lord, Phil, what do they have to celebrate?"
"They're still alive,” Philip said. “Who knows for how much longer? Eat, drink, and be merry. But, as Monfort told me while you were dutifully inspecting your mama's order, a few of his customers are throwing a party to celebrate one of their members’ stage debut. She's in some theatre chorus and the actress she understudies came down with laryngitis. The matinee is tomorrow afternoon, if the Citizens’ Committee lets the theatre stay open."
"Are they likely to close it?"
"Who knows? At any rate, Monfort says it's his farewell lagniappe to his favorite customers—he's donating the
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