SCENE TWENTY ONE Isle d' Tresor, Antoinette, Micah, and Miguel's home and clinic, near Richmond.
"Maman! Maman! Mon pere est venu, il est arrive maintenant, et avec lui sont a venir Jacques, Thomas, Temus et Torry!" Micah de Cervantes, all of five and a half years old called out to Antoinette, too excited to remember he was becoming nearly as fluent in his third language, English, as he already was in his first and second, French and Spanish.
"Oui, mais oui, ils sont ici, mon petit. Alors, s'il tu plait, Michee, mon cheri, descends de ton perche dans cette fenetre, et sont aidez-moi saluer ton Papa, et tous nos amis. Ils doivent en effet, etre fatigue, non, apres un si dur voyage? And please, Micah Diego, try to remember that not all of our friends speak L' Francaise ou Espanol, so we will speak to them in their English."
"Oui, maman... Yes, mommy, Micah Diego will that remember and speak l' Anglaise Americaine with our friends." The strawberry blond, wide grey eyed little boy nodded, and rushed down from his watching post on the landing. He was grinning from ear to ear, Antoinette thought, exactly the same way Miguel did when he was especially proud of one accomplishment or other. Watching her husband using two canes to come up the walk to their home, and still struggling, Antoinette didn't think Miguel looked either proud or happy, or accomplished, just now, only exhausted.
And as always, when Miguel reached her, and pulled Antoinette into his arms, it seemed he could read her thoughts as clearly as words on a page. "Ma plus cher femme, I am not on the point of collapse, only somewhat road-weary." Miguel chided her before she could chide him. "It has taken a full day longer than I hoped or expected it would, just to come home, and ..."
"And I would be just as glad, mon plus cher mari, if you had taken yet one more day, rather than driving yourself in this manner." Antoinette scolded, in turn. She would have continued her text quite a bit longer, too, if Micah Diego hadn't chosen that moment to launch himself at Miguel, hugging his father rather fiercely.
"Papa, Papa, I'm awful glad you're home again!" Micah exclaimed, holding onto his father. "I was missin'you awful, Papa. You won't be away so awful long, again, will you?"
"I have no plans to go anywhere, not for a very long while, m'ijo, don't worry." Miguel answered, chuckling at the little boy's awkward English, and hugging his son in return, just as fiercely, despite his weariness. In fact coming home seemed to have lifted the bulk of his exhaustion entirely off his shoulders. "Instead, I've brought some friends to stay here with you and your madre and I. Thomas and Jacques you already know from their visits here while I was away. But you haven't met Torry and Temus who've come with them from Lord Baltimore's City."
Suddenly struck by shyness, Micah drew back, and whispered to his parents. "But Papa, when you sended your letters to maman, you said Torry was a little boy, like Micah Diego. And I only see grown folks that came with you, now. Where's Torry? Where's he?"
"I'm Torry, Micah." Jim West said, bending down on one knee, to be more at the small boy's level, having emerged from the brother's latest nap on the Richmond bound train. That's what my grandma called me, starting when I was very little, much littler than you are now, in fact. From what I hear, you're going to be thirty-six, and open up your own clinic, on your next birthday, isn't that right?"
Micah giggled, sounding to Jim very much like his father. "No, Torry! I'm going to be SIX on my birthday, that's in July! And I'm going to have a mic...micra... a 'scope for seeing the tiniest things ever, like maman has, and a tel...tela... a 'nother 'cope for looking at stars, like mi padre, too!" Now the little boy turned from smiling at Jim to staring up at Artemus. "Well, if HE's Torry, then you ... Are you Temus?" Micah demanded to know. "Are YOU the one mi padre used to fight with so much?"
'Micah Raul Santo Iago de Cervantes y Marais!" Antoinette gasped, reaching for her son.
"No, it's alright, Antoinette, it's okay." Artie said, kneeling down to look Micah in the eye, as Mac helped Jim get back to his feet. "Micah, I used to fight a whole lot of people, including your father. But we made an agreement not to fight any more, your father and I, an armistice, something like General Grant made with General Lee, a few years back. So, right now I'm only here to help my friend... Torry, if that's alright with you and your maman, of course."
"But you don't call your friend Torry, do you?" Micah probed. "You stopped and started again, and maman says that means ..."
"Micah Diego, this is not the time or the place! For one thing it's far too windy and cold out here on the stoop to start questioning our friend Temus ." Miguel protested, frowning at his son and yet delighted by his quick perception.
"No, no, I think we'd better settle all this, right now, Miguel." Jim answered, shaking his head. Then he knelt again, and reached out in the direction he'd heard Micah's voice, until the little boy grasped Jim's hand. "Micah, you're right, my friend Artemus usually calls me Jim. That's because when I was born, I was named for my uncle Jimmy. So I have more than one name, like you do. My name, which you might have heard from your parents before now, is James Torrance Kieran West. And the truth is, I used to fight the same people Artemus did, until a few years ago. We both ... disagreed with your Papa, at the time.
But, after I got pretty badly hurt, and needed a lot of help to get well, that's when Thomas and Jacques and Artemus, and a few more of our friends asked your father to help me get better, again. And your father agreed. And with all of their help I AM getting better, now. And we're not fighting with him, now. We're not going to, not anymore, ever. And I owe you a lot...especially because while he was helping me, your father stayed in Baltimore, instead of staying here with you and Antoinette. And I hope you and I can be friends, because it was very good, and very brave of you, to share su padre with me for such a long while."
Micah was still staring at Jim's scarred, blind green eyes, and being a child he couldnt keep from blurting out even more questions. "No puedes verme? Estas ciego, Torry? Sus ojos duele?"
"No, Micah, no puedo ver. Pero no, mis ojos no han herido a ... un buen tiempo." Jim answered, and shrugged. "It's been quite a while since my eyes hurt at all. Which is... well, I suppose it's good news, in a way."
"O, lo siento mucho, Torry." Micah said, patting Jim's hand, that easily held both his own. "And I'm glad to be your friend. You should come inside, now."
"Oui, vraiment, mon petit! Gentilhommes, bien venu a Isle d' Tresor. Entrez, s'il vous plait." Antoinette laughed, then turned more serious as Jim stood up again, with Artie lending a hand, this time. Taking Jim's arm, as if he were helping her inside, rather than the other way around, Antoinette leaned closer to the young agent. "It is I and mon cher mari who remain in your debt, I believe." Micah's mother quietly told Jim. "We would not have our petit fils, our Micah, if not for your intervention some years past at that riverbank, near Sacramento. So, no more talk of you being our debtor, s'il tu plait? In truth, we are yours. And that is Miguel's sentiment, Torry, as much as my own."
"Well, that's what he told me... just a few weeks ago. And I was raised never to argue with a lady, so I won't. Thank you for opening your home to ... all of us. From what I've heard, it's really something." Jim answered, thinking he must sound like a mealy mouthed bureaucrat.
"It's very pleasant and quiet, and I think we've made it comfortable, too. For now, please come into the library, mes amis. It's just over to your right about seven paces, Torry. We'll have the l' grande tour, when you've rested." Antoinette smiled, as they walked into the foyer. She was thinking her former adversary and Miguel's was trying as hard as he could to be truly pleasant and charming under extremely difficult conditions." But there is one question I'm too curious to hold back."
"Ask away." Jim smiled, listening to the way the smooth flooring made their voices echo. "I'm all ears, these days."
"Please, gentilhommes, make yourselves comfortable." Antoinette said before she went back to her question. "You are our guests here, and I promise you, there are no dangerous implements or devices within these walls. We are at peace, and mean to remain so."
"As do we, Madame." Jacques answered, at a nod from Mac.
"Let us have peace." Artemus added, quoting the President. "What was your question for James, if I may ask?"
"I suppose mon mari already knows the answer. But, Torry, you speak Spanish really quite well, so I am curious to know how that came about?" Antoinette asked, lightly touching Miguel's arm, as if to reassure herself he was home.
"Oh, that's easy, really. My grandfather Daffyd West emigrated from Caerlon in Wales to Texas, as a young man. He raised my father, and his brothers and sisters near San Antonio, in fact. And most of that side of my family still lives in that region. My uncles Davey and Morgan, my aunts Jenn, Merey and Eleri all live nearby. And my cousins Dai, Tegan, Denny, Evan, Taryn and Rhianna live on and run the horse-breeding ranch my grandfather started down there, together, when they're not working as almost the only doctors and horse doctors in the county. And when Granddad got there, of course, it was all still part of Mexico. Well, my grandmother West, Grandma Merey, was a schoolteacher, with a pretty good ear for languages... I think she just naturally picked up Spanish and taught it to ... all her kids and grandkids. DID you know that part of my biography, Miguel?" Jim chuckled, turning in the direction he could hear Miguel playing with Micah.
"Some of it, surely." Miguel grinned. "But new data is always welcome additions to your dossier. Now, please excuse me, friends. I am going to take my son, who I have missed a very great deal, upstairs for a while. Micah Diego also needs to show me all his latest inventions and theorems, you see. Antoinette, ma plus cher, et plus belle reine Anne, I assume you wish to remain with our guests, in order to revive your shameful flirting with Thomas and Jacques from their previous visits?"
"Oh, mais oui, mon cher roi Louis! But you seem to forget my stated intention of flirting quite SHAMELESSLY in fact, with l' bon Duc de Buckingham, et M'sieur Capitaine-Lieutenant Athos, equally as much as with their confreres, Messieurs Porthos et Aramis." Antoinette laughed, gesturing to each of the newcomers in turn.
Jim chuckled at this announcement, shaking his head, while Artie peered at Antoinette for a moment as if she'd started speaking one of the very few languages he didn't have by heart, and then started to laugh, himself. Mac Macquillan sighed, seeing where this conversation was headed. And Jacques, always the courtier at heart, swept Antoinette a true Musketeer's bow.
"Wait, err, that is, pardonez moi, ma cher reine," Artie finally said, when he stopped laughing. "I thought when all that Musketeer role play first started up, which was a good six or seven years ago, at some kind of fancy dress costume ball...I had D'artagnan, not Athos? Jim had Athos, in fact. And Frank, Frank Harper got Porthos ... for the obvious jibe. If I may ask, just when, and why, did the roles get switched around?"
"Well, Frank's a little busy, up in the District, just now, Artie." Mac said with a chuckle. "He's working just as hard as he can to keep the President from making him the next Director of the Service! But I really don't think our Quaker's going to win THIS skirmish."
"I wouldn't give very good odds on that one, myself." Jim smiled and shook his head, while his partners, as well as Miguel and Antoinette all watched intently, to see who would emerge. "Anyway, Temus is right, MrsDocAni, flirtin' and playin' parlor games wasn't the reason all this Queen Anne" an' King Louie, an' ...Musketeerin' talk got started. DocM, you were just havin' some laughs back then, weren't you? You were usin' it to plague Oldest and Tinny, and ...oww! TM, will you please go somewhere and grow a sense of humor, already? Oh, m' sorry, forgot I oughta be introducin' m'self, I'm just, I'm just called Boy, from W Company, mostly. But some of the Ls say it used t' be I was called Pretty Boy... Anyway, DocM, weren't you kinda makin' fun of Oldest' an' Tin, and ... Temus an' them fellas, when you started this up. And there was somethin' else ... somethin' more to it than just that, am I right?"
"There was indeed." Miguel grinned. 'there was to be a MAGNIFICENT jewel heist, far, far beyond the dreams of avarice, was putting it mildly. You see my legal fees at that time were rather stupendous, and not likely to get any smaller. So when Antoinette and I found ourselves in upstate New York that winter which was actually more like eight years ago now, we needed a ... new source of funds. And so we invested a great deal of time, energy and so forth making friends in that region, the playground of the infamous "400". And of course, one of those friends was the governor of New York at that point, a man whose name I cannot seem to recall. In fact, ma cher femme and I were making a great show just then, of becoming as entirely legitimate, beneficial, ordinary citizens as we are in fact, today. And together we devised a scheme by which the rather top-heavy economic structure of the entire East Coast establishment would have been turned quite upside down, with a single night's work. It was meant to be the crowning wonder of my career as a master criminal... as I was being described just then. And more important, it was intended to keep Antoinette and myself in the manner to which we had rarely been accustomed, for any great length of time. Oh, indeed, it would have been glorious, and glorious fun!"
"But it didn't happen that way. Not if I'm remembering it right." Artie added.
"And you are. And it was not your Service, or any other agency of the crushing local, county, state or federal government which put the quietus to our grand plan. No, it was those wretched, avaricious, profligate robber barons and baronesses! And I can tell you, Antoinette and I were terribly disillusioned. Those, those ... so called high society matrons and industrial titans, those playboys and heiresses and ... modern age moguls, all were as fraudulent, all as spurious, and all as false as I had ever been in my entire career, up to that painful point! In other words, they were, all and each of them, economically as well as morally, bankrupt, and in debt up to their paste earrings and tie clips!" Miguel frowned.
"Wait!" Mac exclaimed. "The 400? You're saying the richest families on the East Coast, were ...broke? Are you sure you aren't exaggerating there, a bit?"
"A bit perhaps." Miguel agreed, grinning again. "However, they were also so egregiously penurious as to refuse to wear decent jewels to their fine cotillions, their balls, operas, horse races, yacht clubs and banquets. It was quite frustrating."
"I'd have to guess so." Boy offered, chuckling at the story.
"And you'd be right. Those cheapskates, those ... liars and cheats, always wore paste, as I said. They only wore paste diamonds and aquamarines, paste topazes and emeralds, paste sapphires, rubies and opals, all of it, nothing but dried glue!"
"So, how DID you recoup the expenses of your plot to steal all the diamonds, topazes, etc, etc, of those rich families?" Boy asked.
"Antoinette is the one who came up with the answer to that. And so she shall explain. Go ahead, ma cher." Miguel urged.
"Merci, mon cher. It seemed quite simple, when I came upon the solution. I realized there was only one way those small minded, ungenerous people could be persuaded to make a showing of their genuine, however ill-gotten jewels. And that was a charity auction, to be held in the midst of a brilliant, extraordinarily inventive costume ball. And as soon as I realized what must be done, I saw that the ball I envisioned would have to have the most opulent, most amazing of settings: It would have to be a superb re-creation of the court Queen Anne of Austria, and her King, Louis XIII of La Belle France, as portrayed in the novels of Dumas pere et fils. And so we arranged it. And the ball, and the whole enterprise was such a succeSsthat those prosaic, pedestrian New Yorkers have tried to reconstruct my Grande Ball every year since then." Antoinette smiled. "And knowing that at least a few of our "friends' from the Secret Service were quite likely to attend my ball, Miguel and I duly sent out very special invitations."
"Now, those invitations are what I remember best." Jacques smiled. "Because they were in the form of Royal orders, calling each of the Musketeers into attendance. Mine was addressed, within the envelope, to M'sieur Lieutenant-Capitaine Aramis, of Her Majesty's Musketeers, ordering his attendance. Frank's, as Artemus pointed out, called for him to come to the ball in the role of Porthos..."
"Yeah, and the invitation Oldest got demanded he come as Capitaine-Lieutenant Athos, of Her Majesty's Musketeers." Boy added.
"And my invitation 'ordered' me to appear as D'artagnan." Artie finished, rolling his eyes.
"And at the "charity auction' in the middle of that ball," Boy offered, "you 'auctioned' as many of those genuine pieces of priceless jewelry as you could, right into your own bank account?"
"Oui, precisement." Antoinette nodded, smiling at him.
"But the Governor of New York, at that time wasn't just a friend of yours, Doctor. He was pretty much in your back pocket, isn't that right?" Artie asked.
"Very uncomfortably so, yes. We were quite glad to be rid of that bothersome fellow, I assure you, once we returned to my grandmother's estate, Los Miraboles. And he was indicted for mail fraud and numerous other kinds of malfeasance soon afterwards, as I recall." Miguel agreed.
"And because the others, the 400 willingly 'sold' their jewelry at auction, they couldn't press charges against you two?" Mac asked.
"Oh they had not one leg to stand on, in a criminal case. Some of them actually had the nerve to sue us, in the aftermath. But those suits failed, just as they've failed, in every succeeding year to recreate Antoinette's ball."
"So, to go back to my question," Artie prodded, "why have you changed our roles in that whole Dumas, pere scenario?"
"Because we all have changed considerably, in the interim, have we not, M'sieur Gordon?" Antoinette asked.
"Well, yes, I suppose so." Artie shrugged, unsatisfied.
Boy frowned and shook his head wearily as another of the brothers emerged, with a courtier's bow to "Queen Anne". "Pardonez moi, ma cher reine, I'm known as Athos, Capitaine-Lieutenant of Her Majesty's Musketeers, from V Company. And I'm still not sure I entirely understand. You've given Oldest Torry Buckingham's role now, which I'm sure my confrere amongst the Veterans will protest. But as already noted, that was not your first choice for ... Oldest."
"Non, m'sieur," Antoinette agreed, watching the change with great interest and no small pity. "When this particular "play" began, Torry was cast as the saddened, skeptical Athos."
"She's flattering you, m'sieur, or flattering Oldest Torry, I should say." Miguel protested, chuckling. "He was cast as Athos because he often seemed entirely disinterested in courtly manners and mannerisms, at that time. The main objection however at the time to his taking on the role of Buckingham was a certain deficit in his ability to counterfeit an English accent, and the fact that he'd somewhere acquired a decent smattering of French. Jacques, mon docteur ami, you were the one who taught Torry French, isn't that so as I've long conjectured?"
"Non, mon ami. Jim first learned French, enough to speak it fairly well in boarding school, and to read technical armament manuals in French and German while a cadet at West Point." Jacques grinned and tapped Athos on the shoulder. "However, during some of earliest assignments, I was able to coach our mutual friend on the finer points of our Quebecois colloquialisms. He was, in fact, quite an apt and willing student in that regard."
"That's right, I remember that!" Artie chuckled. "Jacques, being the low, depraved old roue that he is, taught Jim all the right phrases to use when you want to … ahem, make a pretty girl smile at you, up in Old Quebec!"
"Mon ami, are you implying that I neglected somehow to share the same ahem, cultural information with you, when we had work to do in Mon'real?" Jacques laughed.
"I'm implying no such thing. I already knew all I needed to know as far as that sort of culture is concerned, before I was twelve years old." Artie grinned. "But we got off the subject again. Now that you've explained how Jim went from playing Athos to Buckingham, what about the rest of us? How did you make those "casting decisions, I'd really like to know."
"Bien sur. " Miguel agreed, and went on. "Our friend Jacques was given the role of Aramis, because of his profoundly poetic, spiritual nature…" The small doctor continued, only to have Mac and Artie roll their eyes and groan. "And of course, that choice was also made because of his ill luck in the old game of cherchez les femmes. Since that time, we've heard nothing to dispute the reasons for that decision, j" regret, mon ami.
And as you said, the absent Mr. Harper was our Porthos by way of making a jibe at his persistently spare frame. We've given that role to Thomas now, as befits a man with his renowned epicurean tastes, and classic New England temperament. And as you were the newest team member just then, Mr. Gordon, we cast you as D'artagnan. We felt you had a similarly daring quality, and a keen eye for beauty as well.
But our feeling is now, that the changes we've seen make it more appropriate you should take on Athos. That's meant as a compliment, by the way, Mr. Gordon, to your skill in adopting a courtly manner at the drop of a ladies' handkerchief. Of course you could take on one of the more interesting, fine, swashbuckling roles of those stories: such as the friend of Mme. de Winter, de Roquefort, the Captain of the Cardinal's guards, or that balefully clever Richelieu."
" De Roquefort always seemed like a fun-loving kind of guy to me." Artie quipped, rolling his dark eyes. "So I'll accept a turn as Athos, and then have a go at 'milady's friendly henchman', on condition I can try out for Richelieu, too, when my turn comes around. He's the real mover and shaker in this story, unless of course you're going to take the whole thing forward a few decades, and go for the Man in the Iron Mask. Then we'd need a Mazzarin, a Fouquet and a Colbert! Also, M'sieur Capitaine, as I've been wanting to point out for a little while now, it's hardly fair for one person to take over ALL FOUR Musketeers, AND Buckingham."
"Ah, now that you will have to take up with L Company, mon ami." Athos laughed, a bit sadly. "They found it a good idea at the time. And when you consider Buckingham's historical sad fate, as well as his impossible love for Queen Anne, and then Aramis', a failed priest, Porthos, a hedonist in truth, and my own taste in women... After all, "I" married 'Milady de Winter once, that's not much of a bonus. And of course, when D'artagnan, meaning our brother, m'sieur, starts up with that horrid Gascony accent and astonishing naivete, someone MUST be there to clonk the poor country lad on the noggin, which we do, on a regular basis. However, we are still left with the question of WHY you moved Oldest Torry from the role of Athos to that of Buckingham, ma plus belle reine Anne?"
"Par ces't que, Torry, everybody, always, always loves maman!" Micah crowed, beaming as he looked from one of the grown folks to another. "And papa knows that, so he says everybody must be in love with maman, just like Papa and Micah Diego. And maman readed me some of those old, funny stories, with sword fightings and queens and miladies, and everything, and there was that old Bucking...Duc, he loved Queen Anne, and THAT's maman!"
Athos nodded, smiling directly at the little boy who all the Companies knew they owed a huge debt to. And then another of the brothers emerged, making a profound bow to Micah, Antoinette and Miguel in turn. "You're right, of course, Your Royal Highness, in one way, I am, as I long since accepted the role of Buckingham, Queen Anne's greatly devoted servant. I must be that, owing Her, King Louis, and yourself, Mon Dauphin, as I do, a debt far, far beyond my... shoddy capacity ever to requite. But to do or say anymore, My Prince, would be to vastly dishonor my Fair England, my good King Charles, and La Belle France. So that I NEVER shall do, my oath on that, Your Royal Highness, if you will accept it."
"Well, that's very gracious, and very well spoken, indeed, Mon Duc," Miguel answered, as his small son scrunched his ruddy features and peered up at Buckingham. "And of course we will accept your solemn oath in this regard, and any other, won't we Micah Diego?"
"Oui, papa." Micah nodded, plainly still unsatisfied and confused.
"What's wrong, m'ijo? Aren't you glad to have your Papa home? I'm very glad to be home with you." Miguel asked, dropping his voice and hugging his son close.
"Papa, I'm so very happy you came home, to our new house, here." Micah whispered, hugging back. "I missed you so awful much, so awful long! But I miss... our old house, Papa, and our ... peoples there. I'm sorry, lo siento mucho, Padre... But you don't want Micah Diego tellin' awful fibs, do you, Papa?"
"No, I'd hope you would always tell me all the truth, m'ijo. So now, why don't you finish up telling Papa what's putting that big frown on your little face, instead of a smile for Papa?" Miguel probed.
"Si, Papa... I ... kinda told you... b"fore, Papa, I ... you were goin' t' bring some little boys home, here, to our new house ... you WERE goin' to bring little boys to play with Micah Diego, weren't you?" Micah complained, but looked ashamed to say it.
"Su padre promised to bring "a schoolhouse full of little boys', and their brothers home with him, My Prince." Buckingham answered, striding over to the father and child, when Miguel glanced his way, wordlessly asking if the Companies felt they could reveal themselves to his son. Then the Veteran knelt beside Miguel's chair so that once more he was face to face with Micah.
"I know. Because I read over his shoulder when he was writing you that very letter. Not very polite I know or diplomatic, and I should have asked, before I did that. And the truth is, Mon Cher Dauphin, that's just what your father did. He brought me, and my brothers home with him, to stay and get strong again, and to come to know you, to come and play and read and ... do all sorts of fine things. And I know you've been waiting for nearly a whole week for us to come here, but the train trip took almost two days longer than we thought it would." Buckingham told Micah, finding the way the little boy studied him, out of wide grey eyes very much like his father's.
"And the thing is, My Prince, we're pretty well tired out from coming all that way. We could use some sleep, a lot of sleep. In fact, my brothers, for the most part, ARE sound asleep, this very minute. So, I was hoping you would agree to wait until tomorrow to meet my brothers, to play with all those little boys. We know you've been waiting so awfully long for your father to come home, and HE's been wanting to come, but he stayed ... He stayed there, helping us. very, very much, to get well, again. So, what do you think, Micah Diego?"
"I think, Torry, you are only the third grown folks I knew my whole, whole life, that asked Micah Diego what me thinks!" The little boy announced, wide eyed. "AND I think maman was right, b"fore you came, she says Papa will be awful tired, after comin' on so many big, noisy ol' trains. Micah Diego and maman must see him asleep, almost right away. But maybe, just maybe Papa and our friends who came home with him now, very much need to have some gingerbread and tea b"fore sleepin'. You said maybe they would, oui, maman?"
"Oui, mon cher. "Antoinette agreed. 'mes amis, if you are, like my bright, growing boy here, more hungry than tired, please, gentilhommes, come into the dining room, just over here to the left of the foyer. Micah and I and Cook have a small repast ready for you. Then, we'll show you to your rooms. And Micah Diego, you will allow Torry and all our friends to rest as long as they choose to in the morning, non? They will be visiting us for some time, now. So we won't hurry them about, or hurry them about anything at all, will we, cheri?"
"Non, maman." Micah nodded so glumly that Artemus felt moved to take a moment from watching Jim, as he'd been doing intently since they left the asylum, to say something to this little boy.
"Micah, I'm sure your maman is very wise, and she knows most old folks, like Thomas and Jacques and ...well, me, need to sleep as much as we can. But, with our friend, Torry here, that's not the case at all. You see, he went to all sorts of military prep schools as a boy, and then to West Point. And after that he was in the REGULAR ARMY, as I'm sure he'll tell you, many times himself. And in the REGULAR Army, you see, Micah, my old friend Torry learned that if the Army wanted him to get enough sleep to stay healthy, they'd issue it to him. Otherwise, he's up at dawn, blowing reveille for all he's worth, IF the Army issues him a bugle, that is. Isn't that right, Mon Duc?" Artie asked, tiredly chuckling.
Buckingham pinched the top of his nose, with a long suffering air, and shook his head, allowing Jim to reemerge. 'that's exactly right, Artemus. But you see, Micah, Artemus was in the VOLUNTEER Army, a few years back. And so there's a lot he doesn't understand about how Armies function. And that VOLUNTEER Army, Micah Diego, was very badly needed, at that time. But, not anymore, in fact, it doesn't even EXIST, anymore." Jim said, with a taut smile and a stiff nod in his partner's direction.
"Now, did somebody say something about gingerbread? Because, if I'm remembering right, Antoinette, your Cook made the best gingerbread I EVER ate, and I'm famished!"
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