Voleur di pain
Chez Miche D'Aquin!
Of course, what these young songsters fail to remember is that they, too, are Americans!”
Hugh Talverton laughed. “I like that. I shall have to remember it. Let’s see if I’ve got it right:
American rogue,
Dressed in nankeen,
Stealer of bread,
Mr. D’Aquin!”
Paulette and Charles laughed at his ready translation, and even a rueful smile and small laugh escaped from Vanessa.
“All right, I call craven!” she admitted. “My comment was uncalled for, and I apologize.”
Hugh nodded once, acknowledging her words, while a warm smile transformed his features. With his blond and tawny coloring, Vanessa suddenly realized he reminded her of the sun, and unaccountably, she basked in the sunlight warmth of his smile.
“I suggest we forget the matter,” he said easily.
“Please,” she said with relief. She felt the tension drain out of Charles, who was standing next to her.
“Vanessa and I, we came to steal Charles away for lunch. Would you care to join us?” Paulette asked.
“Lunch!” protested Charles.
"Oui, mon frere.Vanessa is determined to discover all the news regarding Louisa andla petite bebé,Celeste.”
Charles looked at Hugh helplessly. “Our women, they are determined to rule our lives.”
Hugh chuckled. “I believe that is a universal trait. I shall bear you company to lend what fortitude I may.”
Paulette pouted prettily. “You gentlemen are unkind.”
“And you are a conniving little manipulator,” retorted her graceless brother.
Paulette shrugged, and they all laughed.
“Excuse me a moment while I inform my clerk,” Charles said, heading back into his office.
Hugh surveyed the traffic in the street as they waited for Charles. “This city astounds me.”
“How so?” Vanessa asked politely, determined not to be provoked again.
“I don’t know that I can explain it. It has a color and life like no other city I’ve ever seen. But I suppose what impresses me most is the sound.”
“Sound?”
‘"Je ne comprende pas,"Paulette said, shaking her head in confusion.
“Yes, the sound, or sounds actually. While walking through the city today, I heard no fewer than six different languages. In a singsong fashion, I’ve heard vendors hawking their wares. Bells tolled from every corner. Drumbeats, bugles blowing, and Gypsies singing and dancing in the streets. New Orleans has a natural music unlike any other city I’ve visited.”
“Drums? You heard drums?” Paulette squealed, pulling on his arm.
Hugh raised an eyebrow at her strange enthusiasm. “Just this morning,” he said, carefully studying her.
