"It's not the sort of thing Gisselle would attend," he warned.

"I'm tired of doing only the things Gisselle would do; tired of thinking only the thoughts she would think and saying only the things she would say. I feel like a prisoner trapped in my sister's identity!" I cried.

"All right, Ruby."

"I keep myself locked up in this house most of the time out of fear that I might go out and say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing without you at my side," I continued, my voice shrill.

"I understand."

"No, you don't. It's torture," I insisted.

"We'll go to the concert. If anyone asks, you're doing it for me, that's all," he concluded.

"Sure. I'm the stupid, crass, and insensitive one, a lump of . . . upper-class, spoiled flesh and bones," I moaned. Beau laughed. "Well?"

"You're right. You've just described what Gisselle was."

"Then how did you convince yourself to marry her?" I demanded, far more sharply than I had intended.

I saw him wince. "I explained all that to you once, Ruby. The reasons haven't changed. I love you; I've loved only you," he said, and lowered his head before he turned to walk away.

I stood there feeling absolutely dreadful. It seemed there was no one I wouldn't hurt in this state of mind. Everyone I loved was in emotional pain as well as myself. My mind did flip-flops. How did I get all of us into this twisted and painful situation? I was drowning, drowning in that old familiar pool of hopeless despair.

Of course, I realized it wasn't entirely my fault. : eau shouldn't have deserted me and driven me to the point where I believed there was no hope for myself and my baby if I didn't marry Paul, and Paul shouldn't have pleaded and persuaded and worn me down with his temptations of a rich comfortable life. Most of all, Gisselle shouldn't have taken advantage and married Beau just to hurt me. I had already learned she didn't really love him; she had been unfaithful to him, who knew how many times? We're all guilty of something that brought us to this point, I thought, but that didn't make me feel better nor diminish my own sense of blame.

Still, what good did it do to bite at each other now? What good did it do to add to the turmoil that already existed and may never end? I thought. I went after him and found him standing in the study, gazing out the window.

"I'm sorry, Beau," I said. "I didn't mean to explode like that."

He turned slowly and smiled. "It's all right. You have a right to explode now and again. You are under a great deal of pressure. It's much easier for me. I just have to be myself and I can occupy myself with the business. I should be more understanding and more sensitive to your needs. I'm sorry."

"Let's not argue about it, then," I said.

He came to me and took my shoulders into his hands. "I can't imagine ever getting angry at you, Ruby. If I do, I will hate myself more for it afterward. I promise you that," he said, and then we kissed and held each other and walked out to the patio together to see how Pearl was doing with Mrs. Ferrier.

I decided that nothing Gisselle had in her wardrobe was right for Louis's concert, and so I went out and purchased an elegant ankle-length black velvet gown. When Beau saw me in it, he was quiet for a long moment. Then he shook his head.

"What?" I demanded.

"Only the most insensitive clod wouldn't see the difference between you and your sister and realize who you really are," he said.

"That's because you know me so well, Beau. On the surface Gisselle wouldn't look all that different from me if she wore something like this, too. She was just not interested in looking like a mature woman. She thought that wasn't sexy."

"Perhaps you're right," he said. "In any case, she was wrong if she thought sophisticated wasn't sexy. You take my breath away." He thought a moment and then nodded. "I think tonight you should wear one of Daphne's diamond necklaces. Gisselle would," he added pointedly.

I sighed, looked at myself in the mirror, and agreed I could use something to dress my neck.

"Besides," Beau continued, chasing away my hesitation, "why hold it against the jewelry? The diamonds couldn't choose who would be their owner, could they?"

I laughed and went to Daphne's jewel box.

"I'm sure they never looked as good on her," Beau said, beaming, after I put on the necklace I recalled my father had bought her.

"No, they did, Beau. As bad as she was and as cruel as she could be to us, she was still a beautiful woman, an enchantress who captured my father's heart and love and then twisted and tormented him because of it."

"And his brother, too," Beau reminded me.

"Yes, and his brother, too," I said, thinking about poor Uncle Jean.

It was good to crawl out from under my dark, heavy thoughts and get out for an elegant evening. The richest and most renowned people in New Orleans were attending Louis's concert. It filled my heart with joy to see his name in lights and his picture on the billboards. We followed the parade of expensive automobiles and limousines to the front of the theater, where drivers and doormen leapt to open the doors for women in designer gowns and men in tuxedos. When we stepped out into the lights, I felt as if all eyes were on me, watching my every move, listening to my every word. Recalling what Beau had said about Gisselle's attending such an affair, I tried to appear unhappy and uncomfortable. The uncomfortable part wasn't hard because I was so nervous.

Those who approached us to talk all asked about Ruby's condition. "Unchanged," was Beau's stock response. They looked sympathetic for a moment and then went on quickly to discuss other things. Most of the people who attended held season tickets and followed all the concerts. I was surprised at how many knew about Louis, how he had composed music while he was blind and then, as he regained his vision, began performing throughout Europe.

Since none of Gisselle's friends would attend such a concert, I had no problem dealing with their surprise at seeing me dressed this way. Nevertheless, I was happy when we finally were seated and the audience grew quiet. The conductor walked out to the sound of applause and then Louis entered to an even greater ovation. He took his seat at the piano, the hall grew absolutely still, and the music began.

As Louis played concerto after concerto, I closed my eyes and recalled those nights at his grandmother's mansion. Memories flooded back. I saw him sitting at his piano, his eyes shut in darkness, but his fingers bringing him light and putting a glow in his face. I remembered the way we would sit together on the stool as he played, and I remembered his touching me and kissing me. Then I recalled his great outburst of tears and emotion in his room when he finally told me the dreadful story of his parents, his mother's obsession with him and his father's anger.

Like the rainbow after the storm, Louis had risen out of this turmoil and pain to become a world-class pianist. It filled my heart with not only warmth and joy, but hope for Beau, Pearl, and myself. Our storm would end soon, too, I thought, and we would have a quiet, sweet aftermath.

Finally, before the concert ended, Louis got up and addressed the audience. "This last piece, as your program explains, is entitled Ruby's Symphony. It's a piece inspired by a wonderful young lady who came into my life briefly and helped me to find hope and self-confidence again. You might say she showed me the light at the end of the tunnel. So it is with particular pleasure that I play this for you tonight," he said. Only a few people in the audience suspected it was actually me, Ruby Dumas, for whom the music had been written and to whom it had been dedicated.

Beau held my hand but said nothing. I tried not to cry, for fear people would notice, but holding back these tears was a feat beyond Samson. My cheeks were soaked by the time the music ended; however, the audience had been enraptured and everyone rose to his feet to applaud. Beau and I did, too. Louis took his bows and left the stage in glorious success.

"I just have to go backstage to see and congratulate him, Beau," I said.

"Of course," he said.

Louis's dressing room was packed with people complimenting him. Champagne bottles were popping open all over the place. I thought we wouldn't get within five feet of him, but he spotted me in the back of the crowd and beckoned us forward, asking people to step aside. Naturally all eyes were on us, people wondering, who were these special guests?

"It was wonderful, Louis," I said. "I'm so glad we were able to attend."

"Yes, spectacular," Beau added.

"Thank you. I'm so happy I could bring a little joy into your lives at this particularly trying time, Madame Andreas." He kissed my hand.

"I wish Gisselle's sister could have been here herself," Beau said quickly, and loudly enough for everyone in the room to hear. My heart paused in the silence that followed. Louis's smile widened.

"Yes, don't we all?" he said. "But of course, in a real sense, she was," he added with a soft smile. We gazed at each other for a moment and then another champagne bottle was popped and Louis's attention was drawn away long enough for Beau and me to effect a graceful retreat.

My heart felt like a twisted ball of Spanish moss in my chest. Even with the car window wide open and my face practically in the breeze, I couldn't get enough air.

"I'm happy you talked me into going to that concert," Beau said. "He really was spectacular. I'm not just saying it. When he played, the music had a life of its own and melodies I had heard before suddenly became as beautiful as I imagine they were meant to be."