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“Unèl looked bad.”

“Some of the people on the steps just came from the road,” she said. “Maybe I should stand here and wait in case more arrive. We don’t want them to make so much noise knocking that the soldiers hear them.”

The old woman and the young man peered into the darkness over Félice’s shoulder. The woman was covered with leaf and mud stains. Her dress was torn on the side and in the back. The young man’s clothes smelled of onion and garlic; his hands were callused, his fingers bent and curved the way some old men’s were.

“The soldiers could be close,” Félice concluded, “but Don Gilbert and Doña Sabine are here. Their money and position may protect us.”

“We had planned to sleep in the cane fields,” the old woman said. “Many people will sleep in the ravines tonight.”

“I hear Sebastien was arrested at the church,” Félice said. “Mimi too.”

“They carried the doctor off with all those people who were to cross the border with him,” the old woman said. “The priests they took alone in a separate automobile. The priests begged the soldiers to let them stay with the people. The soldiers wouldn’t let them. One of the priests was crying.”

We searched the grounds for Yves. He was sleeping in front of a row of servants’ rooms. The last two planks of Papi’s wood were leaning against the wall next to him.

Yves jumped to his feet as soon as I laid my hand on his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his hands against his eyes, looking around as though he didn’t know where he was.

“I sold half the wood,” he said.

“Yves, did you see them take Mimi and Sebastien?” I asked.

“I saw many taken,” he said, dropping his face.

Doña Sabine called for Félice. She and Don Gilbert were sitting on one of the terraces, perched in two reclining chairs with only a hurricane lamp between them. Félice stepped across the yard and climbed a stone staircase to reach them.

“Who came?” Doña Sabine’s voice carried across the grounds.

“A friend,” Félice said.

“Who is this friend?” demanded Doña Sabine. “We must be cautious.”

“Be careful who you let in.” Don Gilbert echoed his wife’s warning. “We are going to sleep.”

On her way to her bed, Doña Sabine leaned over the verandah and examined their property. There was surrender in her voice when she said, “We will not be able to save everybody.”

It was not even certain that they could save themselves.

After the dona and her husband had gone inside, I told Yves, “I must go to Dajabón. There is a chance of finding Mimi and Sebastien there. I should go at once.”

I could tell Yves did not have much hope, but he agreed to come with me. When Félice returned, we told her we were leaving.

“Gather a few things,” Yves told her. “Come with us.”

“I cannot leave,” Félice said. “I am afraid. This must be what it means to get old. I never was afraid when I was young. Now I am afraid all the time.”

“Yves and I will be with you,” I said.

“I don’t want to die walking,” she said.

“Gather your things and come,” Yves insisted. “No one dies walking.”

“I already have decided,” she said. “I will stay here. This way I can look after Joel’s father too.”

I untied my packet and handed Félice Kongo’s mask of Joel’s face. She raised the mask up to her neck and stroked the paper lip with her fingers.

“It’s a good likeness of him,” she said.

Yves took the mask from Félice, glanced at it, and hastily handed it back to her.

“This wood was to be a man’s coffin,” he said, pointing at the planks of Papi’s cedar leaning against the wall. “Since you’re staying here, I’ll trade this wood to you for a good machete.”

Félice went into one of the workers’ rooms and came out with a machete for Yves and a long meat chopping knife for me. The machete had a light brown cowhide sheath and a sling for carrying it across one’s back. I wrapped the sharp knife in my spare dress and put it in my bundle.

Félice took us to the gate and let us out.

“Perhaps I will see you both again one day,” she said through the grid.

We followed a trail up the stream. Yves grabbed a tree branch and tapped it against the side of his leg as he walked.