ewter, the gallery of family paintings. When she
came upon an early portrait of my mother, her eyes misted.

"She was lovely," Joanna said. "Like a princess! And what of your
father? Is there no portrait of him?"

"No," I said hurriedly. "No portrait." I had spoken my first lie to
Joanna, for there was a painting, half-completed, which my mother had
begun in the last year of her life. It was a whispering little
watercolor, and Joanna discovered it to my consternation.

"What a magnificent cat!" she said. "Was it a pet?"

"It is Dauphin," I said nervously.

She laughed. "He has your eyes, Etienne."

"Joanna, I must tell you something--"

"And this ferocious gentleman with the moustaches? Who is he?"

"My grandfather. Joanna, you must listen--"

Francois, who had been following our inspection tour at shadow's-length,
interrupted. I suspected that his timing was no mere coincidence.

"We will be serving dinner at seven-thirty," he said. "If the lady would
care to dress--"

"Of course," Joanna said. "Will you excuse me, Etienne?"

I bowed to her, and she was gone.

At fifteen minutes to the appointed dining time, I was ready, and
hastened below to talk once more with my father. He was in the dining
room, instructing the servants as to the placement of the silver and
accessories. My father was proud of the excellence of his table, and
took all his meals in the splendid manner. His appreciation of food and
wine was unsurpassed in my experience, and it had always been the
greatest of pleasures for me to watch him at table, stalking across the
damask and dipping delicately into the silver dishes prepared for him.
He pretended to be too busy with his dinner preparations to engage me in
conversation, but I insisted.

"I must talk to you," I said. "We must decide together how to do this."

"It will not be easy," he answered with a twinkle. "Consider Joanna's
view. A cat as large and as old as myself is cause enough for comment. A
cat that speaks is alarming. A cat that dines at table with the
household is shocking. And a cat whom you must introduce as your--"

"Stop it!" I cried. "Joanna must know the truth. You must help me reveal
it to her."

"Then you will not heed my advice?"

"In all things but this. Our marriage can never be happy unless she
accepts you for what you are."

"And if there is no marriage?"

I would not admit to this possibility. Joanna was mine; nothing could
alter that. The look of pai