with a tray bearing three small bowl-shaped crystal glasses
and a cut-glass decanter that twinkled in the lamplight.

"Handsome glassware," Auguste said, seating himself and carefully
setting his backpack between his feet.

"From the time of Louis the Fifteenth," Nicole said. "One of the things
Papa brought over from the old chateau in France. And he gave it to
Frank and me as a wedding present. At least Raoul won't get his hands on
this."

Auguste said, "But Raoul has everything else, because father left it all
to me. I told him he should will it to you; I should have insisted." His
face burned with shame.

Frank said, "I doubt we'd have held onto the estate any longer than you
did. And, frankly, I don't want it any more than you do. I don't know
how Nicole feels."

Now that the land was irrevocably lost to him, Auguste was no longer so
sure that he did not want it. He twisted in his chair, angry at himself
for his uncertainty.

Nicole shook her head. "I'm a wife and mother. I'm not prepared to be a
chatelaine. Especially when I'd have to fight that--that beast."

As Frank poured an inch of the warm amber liquid into each of their
glasses, Auguste noticed that his fingers were, as always, blackened. He
must never get the stains of his trade off his hands.

Frank said, "I'm going to write in the _Visitor_ about what happened
today, tell what I saw, so the whole county will know what happened."

Auguste looked at Nicole. He saw fear in her eyes, but she said nothing.

"Why write about it?" Auguste said. "Raoul would do some harm to you.
And it would change nothing. I won't even be here to read it." The last
thing he wanted was these people, whom he cared about, getting into
trouble because of him.

Frank smiled faintly. "You know that unlike just about every other man
in Smith County, I don't carry a gun." He pointed downward, in the
direction of the press on the floor below them. "That's my way of
fighting."

For a moment Auguste felt ashamed that he was running away from that
same fight.

"Because you stood by me today my heart will always sing your praises.
Do you think my father's spirit will be sad if I do not stay and fight
for the land until I die?"

"You almost did die, Auguste," Nicole said.

_And I might yet, before I get away from here._

He sipped the brandy. It burned his tongue and his throat and lit a fire
in his belly. It made him feel stronger.

Frank said, "Nobody's saying you shou