"My father," said Elizabeth, "is made of the same fabric as my uncle Merriweather and every other Englishman I've ever come across. He cannot see my point, because he cannot see me. Do you realize that, Curiosity? He sees me as a—commodity. The person I am, that person is invisible to him."

"Lord, yes," Curiosity said. "But you come a long way, child. Don't stop now when the blind man just about ready to have his eyes opened for him."

"What is the use?" Elizabeth muttered. "He will never apologize."

Curiosity flapped her apron impatiently. "Is that what you want most in this world? Lord above. Tell me, are those few words more important to you than your schoolhouse, or your get—up—and—go, or the lock he threatenin' you with? Wake up, child. The man is at your mercy, don't you see that?" She sat down with a great thump, and began taking books out of Elizabeth's hands to stack them. "I forget sometime that you a maiden lady. But I got a feeling you ain't without some understandin' of how the menfolk think. You consider what your daddy wants from you, and what you want from him, and how you gonna come out on top."

"You make it sound like a horse trade."

"It's all a horse trade, when you got men to reckon with. White, black, or red. I expect even the yellow men ain't much different. All made by the same God." Curiosity stood and headed for the door.

Elizabeth got up to follow her but Curiosity shooed her back into her room.

"Now, you sit there and read for the afternoon, and let him think you up here packin'. See if he don't come round to a boil by the time I put the ham on the table, ready to give you whatever you can think of to ask for."

And she disappeared down the stairs.

Elizabeth was still standing on the landing when Curiosity called back up to her in a tone which would carry out to every room in the house.

"Yes, Miz Elizabeth," she called. "I'll send up them trunks directly."

* * *

When Julian found his way home for dinner the judge met him at the door in a frantic frame of mind. After listening to his father's story, Julian reluctantly agreed to try his hand at talking reason into Elizabeth. But she refused to admit her brother and would not answer a single one of his questions. Finally bored with the whole affair, Julian went down to table.

"Well, you've done it now," he said to the judge, helping himself to potatoes. "When she gets like this there's no moving her."

The judge picked distractedly at his food. He was truly unhappy about the idea of losing Elizabeth. He was very fond of her, in spite of her strange and sometimes dangerous ideas. And her absence would make many practical problems almost impossible to resolve.

From the sideboard, Curiosity watched the judge closely, which did not do anything to help his appetite. The judge and Curiosity were old adversaries: she ran the household the way she believed it must be run, and he thought it his duty to cross her on occasion. It was an ongoing irritation to him that she outmaneuvered him with so little effort, in ways he did not quite follow. The feeling of always being out thought and by a Negro woman, no less, was vaguely unsettling, when he let himself dwell on it. But because the judge was so dependent on Curiosity's excellent care and skill, and particularly fond of her biscuits and gravy, he didn't allow himself to consider these things in any depth.

"What exactly did you say to Elizabeth?"

"I told her she shouldn't have gone up Hidden Wolf without my permission."

"Ah." Julian ate for a while in silence. His own appetite was excellent, and the ham was exactly to his taste. "That may be technically true, Father. But it is certainly not the way to endear yourself to Elizabeth."

"But she can't leave," the judge said miserably. "If she doesn't marry Richard, I shall have to sell the land to him outright."

Julian glanced at Curiosity. "Perhaps we should discuss this later."

The judge was slightly puzzled by Julian's unwillingness to talk in front of Curiosity. It had always been his fashion to discuss business in front of her, and sometimes with her: she was as closemouthed a creature as he had ever known, shrewd, but discreet. Thinking back, the judge would have been hard—pressed to recall an occasion on which he had ever seen her speak to a human being outside the family or guests at the table, or to give bad advice, when asked. He was about to pay her this compliment within his son's hearing when Curiosity herself spoke.

"Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth," she said softly, and the men rose from their places with such suddenness that their serviettes dropped to the floor. There was silence for some minutes while Curiosity offered Elizabeth each of the dishes.

"All packed?" Julian asked.

Elizabeth cast him a cool look. "Almost."

She allowed Curiosity to fill her plate. "Curiosity," she said. "Would you kindly inquire of Galileo whether or not he would be free to take me as far as Johnstown tomorrow? I am sure I can hire someone to escort me to Albany from there."

"Before we get Galileo all in a lather," Julian said, leaning back in his chair to sip at his wine, "Father wonders if there is anything he can say or do to keep you here in Paradise.

Curiosity's excellent food all tasted exactly alike to Elizabeth: every biteful was dry and tasteless in her mouth. But she forced herself to eat, one steady forkful after another, a pause to cut her food, and onward. She felt her way cautiously, aware that she was walking an unknown and dangerous path, and that everything she wanted was at stake. When she thought she was enough in control, she raised her eyes to her brother.