"All alone? You have the other girls, and you never wanted to do things with me anyway, Gisselle. We're sisters, but up here we were strangers most of the time."

"I'm not staying here. I won't," she insisted.

"That's between you and Daphne," I said.

She went fuming out of my room to make her phone call, but she didn't return to pack her things, so I imagined Daphne had denied her request. At least for now.

Half an hour later Mrs. Penny, her face sallow, came to inform me that the limousine had arrived, She was sincerely sad for me, and she helped me carry some of my things out to the car.

"I'm very disappointed in you," she said. "And so is Mrs. Ironwood."

"Mrs. Ironwood is not disappointed, Mrs. Penny. You work for an ogre. Someday you'll admit that to yourself and then you'll leave too."

"Leave?" She looked like she would laugh. "But where would I go?"

"Anyplace where people aren't hypocritical and mean to each other, where you're not judged on the basis of your bank account, where nice and talented people like Miss Stevens aren't persecuted for being honest and caring."

She stared at me a moment, and then with her face as serious as I had ever seen it, she said, "There isn't any such place, but if you find it, send me a postcard and tell me how to get there."

She left me and walked back to the dorm to return to her duties as the surrogate mother for all of these girls. I got into the limousine and we drove away.

And I never looked back.

Edgar came out and helped the driver carry all my things up to my room when I arrived. He informed me that Daphne wasn't home.

"But madame asked that you remain in the house and speak to no one until she returns," he said. I wondered if he knew why I had come back. He knew it was something terrible, but he didn't reveal whether he knew any details. Nina was another story. She took one look at me when I entered the kitchen to greet her and said, "You be with child, girl."

"Daphne told you."

"She be ranting and raving so loud, even the dead in ovens over at St. Louis Cemetery musta heard her. Then she come in here and told me herself."

"It's my fault, Nina."

"It takes two to make baby magic," she said. "It ain't be your only fault."

"Oh Nina, what am I going to do? I not only make mistakes that ruin my own life, I make the kind that ruin other people's lives too."

"Someone powerful put a fix on you. None of Nina's good gris-gris stop it," she said thoughtfully. "You best go to church and ask St. Michael for help. He be the one who help you conquer your enemies," she advised.

We heard the front door open and close and then the sound of Daphne's heels clicking down the corridor sharply. This was followed by Edgar's arrival.

"Madame Dumas is here, mademoiselle. She wants to see you in the office," he told me.

"I'd rather see the devil," I muttered.

Nina's eyes widened with fear.

"You say that no more, hear? Papa La Bas, he got big ears."

I went to the office. Daphne was behind the desk on the telephone. She raised her eyebrows when I appeared and nodded toward the chair in front of the desk while she kept talking.

"She's home now, John. I can send her up immediately. I am relying on your discretion. Of course. I appreciate that. Thank you."

She cradled the phone slowly and sat back. To my surprise, she shook her head slowly and smiled.

"I must be honest," she began. "I always expected I would be sitting here confronting Gisselle in this situation, not you. Despite your background, you gave both me and your father the impression that you were the more sensible one, wiser, certainly more intelligent.

"But," she continued, "as you now know, being more book smart doesn't make you a better person, does it?"

I tried to swallow but couldn't.

"How ironic. I, who had every right to bear a child, who could provide the best for him or her, was unable to conceive, and you, like some rabbit, just go and make a baby with your boyfriend as nonchalantly as you would eat a meal or take a walk. You're always talking about how unfair this is and unfair that is. Well, how do you like the hand I've been dealt? And then, like salt on a wound, I have to have you enter this house, become part of this family, and confront you with child when you have no right to be pregnant."

-"I didn't mean it to happen," I said.

She threw her head back and laughed.

"How many times since Eve conceived Cain and Abel have women uttered that stupid sentence?" Her eyes became dark slits. "What did you think would happen? You thought you could be as hot as a goat or a monkey and make your boyfriend that hot and not ever pay the consequences? Did you think you were me?"

"No, but . . ."

"Forget the buts," she said. "The damage, as they say, has been done. And now, like always, it's left to me to right the wrong, correct and fix things. It was the same when your father was alive, believe me.

"The limousine is outside," she continued. "The driver has his instructions. You don't need anything. Just go out and get into the car," she commanded.

"Where am I going?"

She stared a moment.

"A friend of mine who's a doctor is at a clinic outside the city. He's expecting you. He will perform an abortion and, barring any unforeseen complications, send you directly home. You'll spend a few days recuperating upstairs and then you'll return to public school here. I've already begun to concoct a cover story. The death of your father has left you so depressed you can't continue away from home. Lately you've been walking around here with a long face all the time. People will accept it."

"But . . ."

"I told you—there are no buts. Now don't keep the doctor waiting. He's doing me a very delicate favor."

I stood up.

"One other thing," she added. "Don't bother to call Beau Andreas. I've just come from his home. His parents are about as upset with him as I am with you and have decided to send him away for the remainder of the school year."

"Away? Where?"

"Far away," she said. "To live with relatives and go to school in France."

"France!"

"That's correct. I think he's grateful that's the only punishment he's to endure. If he should ever speak to you or write to you and his parents find out, he will be disinherited. So if you want to destroy him too, try to contact him.

"Now go," she added with a tired voice. "This is the first and the last time I will cover up your faux pas. From here on in, you alone will suffer for whatever indiscretions you commit. Go!" she ordered, pointing her arm toward the door, her long forefinger jabbing the air. It felt as if she had jabbed it into my heart.

I turned and walked out. Without pausing, I left the house and got into the limousine. I never felt more confused or more lost. Events seemed to be carrying me along on their own. I was like someone who had lost all choice. It was as if a strong current had come streaming down the bayou canal, whisking me away in my pirogue, and no matter how I tried to pole myself in another direction, I couldn't. I could only sit back and let the water carry me to the predetermined end.

I closed my eyes and didn't open them again until the driver said, "We're here, mademoiselle."

We must have driven for at least half an hour or so and now we were in some small town in which all the stores were closed. Knowing Daphne, I had expected to be brought to an expensive-looking modern hospital, but the limousine pulled up behind a dark, dilapidated building. It didn't look like a clinic, or even a doctor's office.

"Are we at the right place?" I asked.

"It's where I was told to bring you," the driver said. He got out and opened the rear door. I stepped out slowly. The back door of the building squeaked open and a heavy woman with hair the color and texture of a kitchen scrub pad looked out.

"This way," she commanded. "Quickly."

As I drew closer, I saw she wore a nurse's uniform. She had roller-pin forearms and very wide hips that made it look like her upper body had been added as an afterthought. There was a mole on her chin with some hairs curling up around it. Her thick lips tightened with impatience.

"Hurry up," she snapped.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Where do you think you are?" she replied, stepping back for me to enter. I did so cautiously. The rear entryway opened to a long, dimly lit corridor with walls of faded yellow. The floor looked scuffed and dirty.

"This is a . . . clinic?" I asked.

"It's the doctor's office," she said. "Go in the first door on the right. The doctor will be right with you."

She marched ahead of me and disappeared into another room on the left. I opened the door of the first room on the right and saw an examination table with stirrups. There was a sheet of tissue paper over the table. On the right was a metal table, and on that was a tray of instruments. There was a sink against the far wall with what looked like previously used instruments soaking in a pan of water. The walls of the room were the same dull yellow as the corridor walls. There were no pictures, no plaques, not even a window. But there was another door, which opened, and a tall, thin man with bushy eyebrows and thin coal-black hair flattened over the top of his head and cut short at the sides stepped in. He wore a light blue surgical gown.

He looked at me and nodded, but he didn't say hello. Instead he walked to the sink and began to scrub his hands.

"Just sit up on the table," he ordered with his back to me.

The heavy woman came in and began to organize the surgical tools. The doctor turned around to look at me. He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.