"Nina wasn't with us when Gisselle was supposedly born," he began. "We had that mulatto woman, Tituba, remember?"

"I remember. I remember hating her. She was too sloppy and too lazy and she frightened me with her silly superstitions," Daphne recalled. "Dropping pinches of salt everywhere, burning clothing in a barrel with chicken droppings . . . at least Nina keeps her beliefs private."

"And so we let Tituba go right after Gisselle was supposedly born, remember? At least, that was what we told the public."

"What are you getting at, Pierre? How does that relate to this trifling problem?" she asked caustically.

"We never told the truth because we were working with private detectives," he said.

"What? What truth?"

"To get back the stolen baby, the twin sister who was taken from the nursery the same day she was born. You know how some people believe that missing children are voodoo sacrifices, and how some voodoo queens were often accused of kidnapping and murdering children?" he said.

"I always suspected something like that, myself," Daphne said.

"Precisely. No one's ever proven anything of the sort, however, but there was always the danger of creating mass hysteria over it and causing vigilantes to go out and abuse people. So," he said, sitting back, "we kept our tragedy and our search private. Until today, that is," he added, pressing his hands together and smiling at me.

"She was kidnapped more than fifteen years ago and has returned?" Daphne said. "Is that what we're to tell people, tell our friends?"

He nodded. "Like the Prodigal Son, only this case, it's the Prodigal Daughter, whose fake grandmother got a pang of conscience on her deathbed and told her the truth. Miracle of miracles, Ruby has found her way home."

"But, Pierre . . ."

"You'll be the talk of the town, Daphne. Everyone will want to know the story. You won't be able to keep up with the invitations," he said. Daphne just stared at him a moment and then looked up at me.

"Isn't it amazing?" my father said. "Look at how identical they are."

"But she's so. . . unschooled," Daphne moaned.

"Which, in the beginning, will make her more of a curiosity. But you can take her under your wing just as you took Gisselle," my father explained, "and teach her nice things, correct things, make her over . . . like Pygmalion and Galatea," he said. "Everyone will admire you for it," he told her.

"I don't know," she said, but it was with much less resistance. She gazed at me more analytically. "Maybe scrubbed up with decent clothes . . ."

"These are decent clothes!" I snapped. I was tired of everyone criticizing my garments. "Grandmère Catherine made them and the things she made were always cherished and sought after in the bayou."

"I'm sure they were," Daphne said, her eyes sharp and cold. "In the bayou. But this is not the bayou, dear. This is New Orleans. You came here because you want to live here . . . be with your father," she said, looking at Pierre before looking back at me. "Right?"

I looked at him, too. "Yes," I said. "I believe in Grandmère Catherine's wishes and prophecies."

"Well, then, you have to blend in." She sat back and thought a moment. "It will be quite a challenge," she said, nodding. "And somewhat of an interesting one."

"Of course it will be," Pierre said.

"Do you think I could ever get her to the point where people really wouldn't know the difference between them?" Daphne asked my father. I wasn't sure I liked her tone. It was still as if I were some uncivilized aborigine, some wild animal that had to be housebroken.

"Of course you could, darling. Look at how well you've done with Gisselle, and we both know there's a wild streak in her, don't we?" he said, smiling.

"Yes. I have managed to harness and subdue that part of her, the Cajun part," Daphne said disdainfully.

"I am not wild, madame," I said, nearly spitting my words back at her. "My Grandmère Catherine taught me only good things and we went to church regularly, too."

"It's not something people teach you, per se," she replied. "It's something you can't help, something in your heritage," she insisted. "But Pierre's blue blood and my guidance have been strong enough to conquer that part of Gisselle. If you will help, if you really want to become part of this family, I might be able to do it with you, too.

"Although, she's had years and years of poor breeding, Pierre. You must remember that."

"Of course, Daphne," he said softly. "No one expects miracles overnight. As you said so yourself just a moment ago—it's a challenge." He smiled. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you were capable of making it happen, darling."

Placated, Daphne sat back again. When she thought deeply, she pursed her lips and her eyes glittered. Despite the things she had said, I couldn't help but admire her beauty and her regal manner. Would it be so terrible to look and act like such a woman? I wondered, and become someone else's fairy-tale princess? A part of me that wouldn't be denied cried, Please, please, cooperate, try, and the part of me that felt insulted by her remarks sulked somewhere in the dark corners of my mind.

"Well, Beau already knows about her," Daphne said.

"Exactly," my father said. "Of course, I could ask him to keep it all a secret, and I'm sure he would die in a duel before revealing it, but things are revealed accidentally, too, and then what would we do? It could unravel everything we've done up until now."

Daphne nodded.

"What will you tell Gisselle?" she asked him, her voice somewhat mournful now. "She'll know the truth about me, that I'm not really her mother." She dabbed at her eyes with a light blue silk handkerchief.

"Of course you're really her mother. She hasn't known anyone else to be her mother and you've been a wonderful mother to her. We'll tell her the story just as I outlined it. After the initial shock, she'll accept her twin sister and hopefully help you, too. Nothing will change except our lives will be doubly blessed," he said, smiling at me.

Was this where I got my blind optimism? I wondered. Was he a dreamer, too?

"That is," he added after a moment, "if Ruby agrees to go along with it. I don't like asking anyone to lie," he told me, "but in this case, it's a good lie, a lie which will keep anyone from being hurt," he said, shifting his eyes toward Daphne.

I thought a moment. I would have to pretend, at least to Gisselle, that Grandmère Catherine had been part of some kidnapping plot. That bothered me, but then I thought Grandmère Catherine would want me to do everything possible to stay here—far away from Grandpère Jack.

"Yes," I said. "It's all right with me."

Daphne sighed deeply and then quickly regained her composure.

"I'll have Nina arrange one of the guest rooms," she said.

"Oh, no. I want her to have the room that adjoins Gisselle's. They will be sisters right from the beginning," my father emphasized. Daphne nodded.

"I'll have her prepare it right away. For tonight, she can use some of Gisselle's night garments. Fortunately," she said, smiling at me with some warmth for the first time, "you and your sister look to be about the same size." She gazed down at my feet. "Your feet look fairly close as well, I see."

"You'll have to go on a shopping spree tomorrow though, darling. You know how possessive Gisselle is with her clothes," my father warned.

"She should be. A woman should take pride in her wardrobe and not be like some college coed, sharing her garments down to her very panties with some roommate." She rose gracefully from the high back chair and shook her head slightly as she gazed at me. "What a Mardi Gras evening this turned out to be." She turned to Pierre. "You're positive about all this. This is what you want to do?"

"Yes, darling. With your full cooperation and guidance, that is," he said, rising. He kissed her on the cheek. "I guess I'll have to make it all up to you doubly now," he added. She looked into his eyes and gave him a small, tight smile.

"The cash register has been ringing for the last five minutes without a pause," she said, and he laughed. Then he kissed her gently on the lips. From the way he gazed at her, I could see how important it was for him to please her. She appeared to bask in the glow of his devotion. After a moment she turned to leave. At the doorway, she paused.

"You will be telling it all to Gisselle?"

"In a few minutes," he said.

"I'm going to bed. This has all been too shocking and has drained me of most of my energy right now," she complained. "But I want to have the strength for Gisselle in the morning."

"Of course," my father said.

"I'll see to her room," Daphne declared and left us.

"Sit down. Please," my father asked. I took my seat again and he sat down, too. "You want something to drink . . . eat?"

"No, I'm fine. Nina gave me something to drink before."

"One of her magical recipes?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes. And it worked."

"It always does. I meant it when I said I have respect for spiritual and mysterious things. You'll have to tell me more about Grandmère Catherine."

"I'd like that."

He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, his eyes down. "I'm sorry to hear about Gabrielle. She was a beautiful young woman. I had never and have never met anyone like her. She was so innocent and free, a true pure spirit."

"Grandmère Catherine thought she was a swamp fairy," I said, smiling.

"Yes, yes. She might very well have been. Look," he said, growing very serious very quickly, "I know how disturbing and how troubling this all must be to you. In time, you and I will get to know each other better and I'll try to explain it. I won't be able to justify it or turn the bad things that happened into good things. I won't be able to change the events of the past or make mistakes go away, but I hope I will at least get you to see why it happened the way it did. You have a right to know all that," he said.