Sail Away by Lee Rowan Page B

that as much as anything else."
    Philip's face sobered. “Yes. And I'd like to get the old fellow out before that happens. My father wanted to do it himself, as though his doctor would stand for that! But cheer up, Coz. They say Paris is livelier than ever—and it's high time we cut you free of your Mama's leading-strings!"
    "And fit me with a set of yours?” Kit retorted. “I've heard of the scrapes you got yourself into on your Grand Tour!"
    "Worth every penny,” Philip said with a reminiscent grin. “Coz, until you've been clasped in the arms of a Frenchwoman, you have not known life."
    Kit raised a skeptical eyebrow, along with his glass.
    * * * *
    I am going to die. I am going to die and I have never really lived.
    Zoe Colbert turned away from the narrow window of her father's town house, making certain the heavy drapes were completely closed. She did not want to watch the people in the street and wonder who among them were informers for the Citizens Committee, who the next victims. She had spent more time looking out, until the horrible day the mob paraded by carrying “bloody bouquets", the severed heads of the guillotine's victims.
    The sight was horrible enough in itself, but one of the trophies, barely recognizable, had been her friend Monique. Monique had been only sixteen, a girl who had done nothing but refuse the advances of an ugly man who proved to be someone with influence. Her face still haunted Zoe's dreams. How long would it be before the soldiers came for them?
    Her father's status as a physician gave them a little protection. It was necessary, even for tyrants, to have someone who could set bones and provide medicine when they fell ill. But she knew that her father did not question his patients’ politics before treating them, so it would be only a matter of time before he saved a life that certain people would rather see lost ... before he was labeled a traitor. Then it would be prison or death for them both, and probably for poor Marie as well, who had done nothing but keep the house clean and make meals for them out of next to nothing.
    What was it about revolution that turned neighbors into madmen?
    She heard a key turn in the lock of the front door, and rushed to answer. “Papa!"
    He hugged her, but his expression was sad, and she felt a pang at how old he looked. “Come in, Papa, Marie has made soup, and Madame Lesieur brought us a piece of bacon and some potatoes!"
    "No!"
    "Yes, in thanks for your help when her little Andre had the fever."
    "Where ever did she find them?” he asked.
    "Her son came downriver and brought provisions from a relative near Dijon. This will be enough for two or three days, Marie says.” There, that brought a smile to his face.
    But his words were not cheerful. “Ah, child, I am sorry to have brought you into such a world."
    "You brought me into the only world there is,” she said briskly. “Here, I will hang up your coat. Come into the kitchen, it is warmer there. A cup of mint tea will warm your bones."
    "You are so like your mother,” he said, as he always did. “I will come in a little while, my dear. I received a letter today from an old friend, a colleague, and I must answer it immediately."
    "I hope he is well?"
    "Yes, and he may come to visit if he is able."
    "Soon?"
    "Perhaps tomorrow. Within a week, if he can come at all."
    "I will air out the little bedroom in the morning, Papa.” Was this a good time to ask if she might go to the party Marie's niece Angelique had spoken of? Probably not; she smiled at her father as he went off down the hall.
    Zoe carefully brushed the dust of the street from her father's coat and put it away in the clothes-press. There would be music at a party of theatre people. Perhaps dancing, as well. It had been so long since she had heard any music but her own singing, and who felt like singing anymore? She resolved to ask permission after supper.
    Papa would probably say no. This would not be the sort of party a