n and bewilderment in my eyes must have been
evident to my father, for he touched my arm gently with his paw and
said:

"I will help you, Etienne. You must give me your trust."

"Always!"

"Then come to dinner with Joanna and explain nothing. Wait for me to
appear."

I grasped his paw and raised it to my lips. "Thank you, father!"

He turned to Francois, and snapped: "You have my instructions?"

"Yes, sir," the servant replied.

"Then all is ready. I shall return to my room now, Etienne. You may
bring your fiancee to dine."

I hastened up the stairway, and found Joanna ready, strikingly beautiful
in shimmering white satin. Together, we descended the grand staircase
and entered the room.

Her eyes shone at the magnificence of the service set upon the table, at
the soldiery array of fine wines, some of them already poured into their
proper glasses for my father's enjoyment: _Haut Medoc_, from _St.
Estephe_, authentic _Chablis_, _Epernay Champagne_, and an American
import from the Napa Valley of which he was fond. I waited expectantly
for his appearance as we sipped our aperitif, while Joanna chatted about
innocuous matters, with no idea of the tormented state I was in.

At eight o'clock, my father had not yet made his appearance, and I grew
ever more distraught as Francois signalled for the serving of the
_bouillon au madere_. Had he changed his mind? Would I be left to
explain my status without his help? I hadn't realized until this moment
how difficult a task I had allotted for myself, and the fear of losing
Joanna was terrible within me. The soup was flat and tasteless on my
tongue, and the misery in my manner was too apparent for Joanna to miss.

"What is it, Etienne?" she said. "You've been so morose all day. Can't
you tell me what's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing. It's just--" I let the impulse take possession of my
speech. "Joanna, there's something I should tell you. About my mother,
and my father--"

"Ahem," Francois said.

He turned to the doorway, and our glances followed his.

"Oh, Etienne!" Joanna cried, in a voice ringing with delight.

It was my father, the cat, watching us with his gray, gold-flecked eyes.
He approached the dining table, regarding Joanna with timidity and
caution.

"It's the cat in the painting!" Joanna said. "You didn't tell me he was
here, Etienne. He's beautiful!"

"Joanna, this is--"

"Dauphin! I would have known him anywhere. Here, Dauphin! Here, kitty,
kitty, ki