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By Root 3768 0

south, so that the west face looked toward Table Mountain, still visible on the far horizon. From this secure house a lawn of grass reached out, with four small huts along each side for tools and chickens and the storage of hay; they were so placed, and at such an angle, that they seemed like arms stretching to invite strangers, and when Paul had seen the entire he whispered to himself, 'Mon Dieu! I should like to own this farm!'

'Has the master a daughter?' he asked the driver. 'He does.'

'How old?' he asked casually. 'Nine, I think.'

'Oh.' He said this in such a flat, disappointed voice that he added quickly, lest he betray himself, 'That's good. Someone for my boys to play with.'

'He has sons, too. Nine and eight.'

'Interesting.'

'But you understand, the farm really belongs to the old man.'

'Who?'

'Willem van Doorn. And his old wife Katje.'

'Three generations?'

'Working the fields, you live a long time.'

When they reached the farmhouse, walking down the lane between the eight huts, a tall Dutchman, broad of face and open in manner, came out to greet them: 'I'm Marthinus van Doorn. Are you the Frenchman?'

'Paul de Pre, and these are my sons Henri and Louis.'

'Annatjie!' the farmer cried. 'Come meet our neighbors!' And from the house came a tall, gaunt woman with broad shoulders and big hands. She was obviously quite a few years older than her husband, in her late thirties perhaps, and she bore the look of one who had worked extremely hard. She did not smile easily, as her husband had done when greeting the strangers, but she did extend a practical welcome: 'We've been waiting for your knowledge of grapes.'

'Is it true, you've made wine?' her husband asked.

'A great deal,' Paul said, and for the first time the woman smiled.

'The old man is out with the slaves,' Van Doorn said. 'Shall we go see him?'

But before they could depart, a high, complaining whine came from the back of the house: 'Who's out there, Annatjie?'

'The Frenchman.'

'What Frenchman?' It was a woman's voice, conveying irritation that things had not been explained.

'The one from Amsterdam. With new vines.'

'Nobody tells me anything,' and after a bit of shuffling, the door creaked open and a white-haired woman, partially stooped, came protestingly into the sunlight. 'Is this the Frenchman?' she asked.

'Yes,' her daughter-in-law said patiently. 'We're taking him into the fields to meet the old man.'

'You won't find him,' the old woman muttered, retreating to the shadows of the house.

They did find him, a crippled old man in his mid-sixties, walking sideways as he supervised the slaves in pruning vines. 'Father, this is the Frenchman who knows how to make good wine.'

'After thirty years they send someone,' he joked. Since that first joyous pressing decades ago, hundreds of thousands of vines had been planted at the Cape, assuring a local supply of wine, but even the best vintage remained far inferior to those of Europe.

The old man jammed his pruning knife into his belt, walked awkwardly to greet the newcomer, and said, 'Now let's figure out where your land's to be.'

'I have a map . . .'

'Well, let's fetch it, because it's important that you get started right.'

When the map was spread, the old man was delighted: 'Son, they've given you the very best land available. Sixty morgen! With water right from the river! Where will you build your house?'

'I haven't seen the land yet,' Paul said hesitantly.

'Let's see it!' the old man cried, almost as if the land were his and he was planning his first house. 'Annatjie, Katje! Get the boys and we'll go see the land.'

So the entire Van Doorn establishmentWillem and Katje; Marthinus and Annatjie; and the children Petronella, Hendrik and little Sarelset off to see the Frenchman's land, and after they had surveyed it and assessed its strengths, all agreed that he must build his house at the foot of a small mound that would protect it from eastern winds. De Pre, however, said with a certain stubbornness, 'I'll build it down here,' but his reasons for doing so he would not divulge. They were simple: