Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [377]
The doctor nodded, watching her light the pipe. “It does feel peaceful,” he admitted.
“Yes,” said Madame Fortier. “One hears that you mean to kill that Captain Paltre.”
“News of my business seems to travel widely.”
Hammers clattered on the roof tree, then stopped. The doctor looked toward a cloud of blue butterflies hovering above the shrubs that closed the garden.
“It surprises me a little, I suppose,” she said, twin plumes of smoke streaming from her nostrils. “You would not kill my son, though you had the chance, and though he surely would have killed you. And he had done you many injuries—he did his best to destroy Paul, and almost did destroy Nanon.” She smiled absently, then drew again on her pipe. “I liked it that you would not kill my son, though were I in your place I probably would have killed him. And he was going to die anyway, that was sure.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “He was killed by Dessalines.” He’d been himself a reluctant witness to that action.
“I know it,” said Madame Fortier. “But why then will you kill this Captain Paltre?”
“There are certain injuries which can only be washed out in blood.”
“Why, you might have had that precept from me.” Madame Fortier laughed cheerfully, and blew out another wreath of bluish smoke. “But consider fire—fire too can purify. You see, the walls here have no memory. There are not even any more walls.”
The doctor said nothing. In part he thought that she was right, but there was a knot in him that refused her meaning.
Paul’s head popped into view around the corner of the house. Then came Agnès, chasing him, laughing. They both disappeared between a huge hibiscus in the garden.
“He is prospering, your boy,” Madame Fortier said. “Have you thought of his future?”
“What do you mean?”
“He will not marry anyone on the order of Héloïse Cigny, you know. Sophie perhaps, but there the kinship is too close for comfort.”
“He’s eight years old,” the doctor said, concealing his amazement. He’d never have thought Madame Fortier observed such details of his household—or that she had the opportunity to do so. “I can’t say I’ve felt pressed about such questions.”
“The years go quickly. And the difference between him and Agnès will shrink as they grow older.”
“Why, you do us a great honor there,” the doctor said, feeling a blush spread from his face to his throat. “And certainly, the girl is charming, at this glimpse.”
“She will also have a little property.”
“Well. There is time enough for all that.”
“Except that tomorrow you may be dead.” She tapped the doctor on the forearm. “The whole world knows what a marksman you are, but if BonDyé should withdraw his favor, your shot may fail and his succeed.”
“Of course,” said the doctor. “We are none of us promised tomorrow. But I wonder that you should be so concerned for Captain Paltre.”
Madame Fortier laughed much louder than before. “I have no concern for that blanc at all. The person who concerns me is Nanon. You must not think that you are doing this for her. Neither you nor I have any notion what men came to this house when Choufleur held her here. You do not know their numbers or their names, and you could not possibly kill them all.”
“No,” said the doctor, feeling the knot of his anger tighten and bulge. “But when I have killed this one, the others will be disposed to silence.”
“That is one way of looking at it,” Madame Fortier said. “Perhaps not the best.” She knocked out her pipe on the leg of her chair and stood up. When the doctor rose, she offered him her hand.
“My son burned Nanon right down to the ground,” she said. “And still she came back greener than before. I know you had a hand in her survival. Don’t leave her lonely now.”
Riding with Paul to return the donkeys to Morne Calvaire, the doctor went adrift in an inner fog. Again he saw the swirling mists of La Fossette at dawn, the only other day he’d