Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [160]
“He will profit from the cool of the morning by walking over your beautiful grounds,” said Suzanne. “He is a little confused in these days, my boy, having been so long from home. He—” She interrupted herself and turned to Isabelle.
“Madame Cigny,” she said. “I am sorry for your misfortune.”
“My misfortune,” Isabelle repeated blankly.
“I heard that your house at Le Cap was destroyed,” Suzanne said.
“Oh yes, it is so.” Isabelle’s social laugh had rather a metallic ring. “Not for the first time. And indeed I share that misfortune with my hostess, and with every property holder of Le Cap. Even yourself, Madame Louverture,” Isabelle concluded, in deference to the fact that Toussaint had erected quite a splendid dwelling for himself at Le Cap, though his wife was seldom in residence there.
“But your plantations,” Suzanne said. “I believe that they are near Haut de Trou?”
“Yes,” said Isabelle. “My husband has gone to see whether or not they have been preserved. But so far he has sent no word.”
Zabeth reappeared with the coffee tray, laid a cup and saucer before Suzanne, and poured. The black stream wavered when Bibiane caught hold of the hem of her skirt and pulled. Zabeth set down the silver pot and, with a self-conscious smile, began to pry off the baby’s fingers. Suzanne aligned the donkey stick against her saucer and began putting spoons of sugar into her coffee—one, two, three—and stirred the mixture slowly, counterclockwise.
“One grows accustomed to these catastrophes,” Isabelle said. “Raze and rebuild. Burn, and rebuild.”
Suzanne sipped her sweetened coffee. “It was peaceful before the fleet arrived,” she said. “You must have enjoyed that, mesdames.” Her brown eyes were level and calm beneath the tight crease of her headcloth. The white dots on the dark blue fabric resembled stars in a night sky.
“At least it is still peaceful here,” Elise said.
Mireille mewed and stretched her arms in the air. Then she caught sight of her own hands and fixed her gaze upon them, rapt. Suzanne reached her forefinger across the table and the baby curled her fist over it and smiled.
“It may remain so,” Suzanne said.
“So we must hope,” Elise returned. She shifted her weight; Mireille let go of Suzanne’s finger. Isaac had just reappeared from around the corner of the cane mill, pacing with stiff, agitated strides. Suzanne’s donkey followed him, trailing the braided reins. The donkey stretched its neck and reached with its loose, rubbery lips to pull the back of Isaac’s shirt loose from the waistband. Isabelle suppressed a giggle as Isaac whirled, a hand upraised; he subsided before he launched the blow.
“He is troubled, my boy,” Suzanne said. “His attachment to France is so very strong! But his father does not make war upon France, he assures us. Only upon the General Leclerc.”
Behind Elise’s eyes, the brightening day lost something of its color. Suzanne had spoken with such calm, Elise was not confident she’d heard her right. She stared out over the yard. Isaac had rearranged his shirt and gone back to his aimless pacing. The donkey still pursued him, but at a safer distance. Now Paul and Caco had come into the yard, on the other side of the pool; Paul nudged Caco and pointed at the ducks. On the gallery it was very quiet, except for Zabeth’s murmured remonstrances to Bibiane.
Elise exchanged a glance with Isabelle. “The Governor General will make war upon Leclerc,” she said, with a slight shake of her head. “Yet not upon France. I do not wonder that Isaac is confused.”
“Do you mean to leave Ennery, Madame Louverture?” Isabelle inquired.
“Not at all,” Suzanne said. “I will remain here quietly, with my children at Sancey. All is still peaceful, as you see.” She took another sip of coffee. Elise turned her eyes back toward the pool, where Caco was setting up a snare with a bent green stick and a loop of string. Paul moved at a crouch toward the edge of the pool, dribbling a line of white corn kernels.
“So it will still be safe here,” Elise said.
“Yes, I am certain—there is no safer place.” Suzanne picked