Evelyn was up the next day and wearing makeup when it wasn't time to perform. That seemed to say it all, especially as it was heavy around the eyes. She walked right on by without saying a word to Ruth or Kid.
"I don't care if it's his wife or not, I don't like prying into people's private affairs, but any man who would hit a defenseless woman deserves a beating," Kid said.
"I'll see if I can't talk to her. Get her to open up. Maybe we're jumping to conclusions and she's only hiding circles from sleeplessness."
"That could be, I guess," Kid said, calming down a little.
Ruth didn't get her chance to talk with Evelyn because Francis came bursting into their camp with news. "We've been invited to perform at a dinner party by the Comte de Saligny himself," he said with obvious pride.
"The man that lives in the fancy French place?" Ruth asked.
"The very one," Francis answered, still beaming.
"Did you find actors to replace us?" Kid asked. That had been his reason for being out, not this.
"Not yet, but I'm working on it," Francis promised. "This will be a feather in our cap. People will be lining up wanting to work with us after this."
They got only what could be carried in their hands and went to the frame house on the hill for this dinner party and they were relegated into the basement by a servant.
"What's this?" Ruth asked as Mercy clung to her in the near pitch blackness and Isaiah started to cry.
The servant lit candles. "The dinner's not quite over. The comte wishes you to wait here until he's ready for you."
"In the basement? This big spacious house and this is the only place he could find room for us?"
"Oui, madame. He will send me for you just as soon as he's ready for the performance." Then he left them there with just 3 burning candles.
The acting troupe hadn't batted an eyelash through it all. They were apparently used to this sort of treatment. It wasn't that Ruth had been expecting to sit down and eat with them, but they hadn't even been afforded the courtesy of waiting with the servants. A clear message that they were seen as less than even the servants.
"It never fails to maze me how folks treat other human beings," Kid said grouchily.
"Don't be scared. It's kind of fun down here with the candles, isn't it?" Ruth asked Mercy.
Mercy nodded though she didn't look convinced as she eyed a web in the corner closest to them.
Ruth noticed a wheezing sound. At first, she feared it was Kid, but it was Francis that was having the breathing trouble.
"Do you have asthma?" she asked.
He shook his head.
"Consumption?
Again he shook his head.
"Well, I guess this damp air ain't helping nobody," Ruth said. She looked at Evelyn and Permelia who seemed unconcerned by Francis' episode.
I've half a mind to leave," Kid grumbled, having just gotten Isaiah to stop crying by bouncing him constantly on his knee. "I know you're being paid, but whatever the amount is, it isn't enough to put up with this."
"I beg to differ," Francis said, finding enough breath to talk. He was slowly recovering his air except for the occasional wheeze.
They waited in the dank darkness for about 20 minutes before the servant came to get them.
"One of the maids will watch the children," he informed them. He looked at Mercy and Isaiah as if they were a great inconvenience. Were actors not allowed to have children?
"That would be fine," Ruth said, "as long as they're nearby where I can hear them."
He hadn't been asking her permission, but he nodded anyway.
"The count has a fine home here," Ruth said.
"For the location, yes, but it's his last day here," the servant said.
"Oh, really. Returning home to France?" Ruth asked.
"Just New Orleans. I'm sure you've heard of the War of Pigs. I believe it has become much well-known. One for the history books, no?"
"We haven't heard. You're having a war over pigs?" Ruth asked, not sure she'd heard right.
"Oh, that's nothing. There was a war over chickens about a 100 years ago. Perhaps the French weren't cut out to farm in Texas. Anyway, I shall be glad to get back to a French community."
Ruth didn't know whether the servant was pulling her leg or not, but they were outside the drawing room, so there was no time to further learn about this mysterious war.
The Comte and his guests were sitting around and smoking after dinner cigars and drinking brandy.
They put on the production though the men were rude enough to talk through parts of it.
"Well, we hope you enjoy New Orleans," Ruth said when it was over. No doubt she was breaking some rule by addressing him, but she didn't care. She didn't hold people with titles on a pedestal and she had a feeling neither did the Texans, which was probably why he was leaving.
"Merci. I can't get away from this crude and uncivilized republic fast enough. You won't soon see me around here again. I can promise you that. If you people had any sense, you'd get as far away from Texas as you possibly could too."
Ruth's curiosity was piqued again. "Why?"
"Pigs have been eating my corn and rummaging through my home and no one in this sorry excuse for a capital cares. Even the pigs have more manners than the people here."
"Surely it's not as bad as all that," Ruth said.
"Worse. Those blasted pigs have eaten my imported linens. They even made themselves at home in my bedroom." His anger made his French accent thicker. "They ate my diplomatic reports. Was it not my right to kill any pigs I found trespassing? But no I am to be taken to court to pay Bullock for the lost pigs. I refuse to appear and I leave in the morning."
Ruth was glad to hear the only casualties in this war were pigs.
"Are you allowed to pack up and leave as a dignitary?" Kid asked. "Surely the court would have been on your side if you'd appeared. And it couldn't be good for the relations between Texas and France if you just up and leave."
"I'm not so sure it would go in my favor and who are you to tell me what to do?"
Actors weren't allowed to have an opinion on politics either apparently. "Nobody at all, Count," Kid replied. "We were put on earth solely for your amusement."
Kid whispered to Ruth as they left, "I can see why I heard some of the townspeople calling him No-Count."
"He is a man who could use a little more God and little less pride," Ruth agreed.
