Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [164]
Tucker looks at Olympia and then seems to see her face for the first time.
“Miss Biddeford,” he says, putting the paper down. “Here I have been ranting on about class warfare, when, of course, the hurt is to you.”
“You tried to warn me about this,” she says.
“Yes, but a warning is nothing compared to the shock of the reality. I know that.”
Tucker removes the newspapers from the table and puts them in his case. “Are you sure you wish to continue with this case?” he asks. “It is not too late to withdraw your petition.”
“I am glad my father was not here to see this,” Olympia says, standing and walking to the window. “What is this la Survivance?” she asks, looking down at the crowd. “I know it means survival, but in this context?”
“It is the rallying cry of the Franco-American community. To keep their culture and their language pure and uncorrupted by the influence of the Yankees. An effort, I might add, that history has shown to be doomed to failure, which I think makes the Francos all the more determined. Of course, you and I know that this suit is not about class or culture, but they will have it differently.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “Are you so sure this is not about class or culture?”
“I have not thought so,” Tucker says. “But it shall become so now.”
• • •
In the small hearing chamber, the sounds of the growing crowd outside can be heard through the sole, shrouded window. Albertine looks frightened and clutches the hand of her husband. Judge Littlefield enters the chamber, and even he, Olympia notes, appears to be somewhat rattled.
“I had hoped to handle this affair privately behind closed doors,” Littlefield says at once when he is seated, “which is where it should remain. But occasionally, through no fault of the court, a legal affair is made public, and that public determines it has need to be witness to the facts of the case. This private dispute has found its way into the newspapers, and I hope I shall never discover that any of the parties present in this room has been responsible for this breach of confidentiality.” Littlefield glares pointedly at Sears, who, in turn, looks startled and bares his palms, as if to say: It was not I.
“When a case has been made public,” Littlefield continues, “and the public decides it is being denied access to it, it is possible that one or both parties may be injured. Therefore, it is with great reluctance and after much deliberation that I have made the decision to sit in public. We shall now adjourn to a larger chamber, and as I do not wish to expose any of us to personal injury from the crowd that has gathered outside, I shall ask the bailiff to escort you through the entrance behind me. The public shall be let into the chamber through another entrance. Bailiff?”
Tucker waits for Sears to show Albertine and Telesphore Bolduc through the door behind the judge before he leads Olympia to this exit. Taking her arm, they pass through the door into what seems like a dark warren of tiny chambers, and Olympia thinks of lambs being led to the slaughter. Because the way is murky and labyrinthine, Olympia instinctively draws closer to Tucker. For part of the way, there are no lights at all, and he puts his arm around her shoulder to guide her. It is odd to feel a man’s protective touch again. When they approach the entry to the assigned hearing room, Olympia can hear shouts of encouragement to Albertine and Telesphore. Tucker takes her hand.
“Mr. Tucker, I am more than a little apprehensive,” she says, looking down at their clasped hands.
“Miss Biddeford,” he says, “there is something I should like to say to you.”
In the twilight of the chambers, all that she can see is the suggestion of a face, his eyes.
“I know that this is a dreadful moment,” he says.
“Mr. Tucker,” she says.
“It is only that I wish to say how much I have admired your courage and that I have hope that one day we shall have occasion to be friends and not merely colleagues.