All the
windows were closed, but moisture was blown through the tiniest
crevices. There were two rooms in the attic. In the first one the slaves
huddled among piles of furniture. The west room held the children's
pallets and tante-gra'mere's lowly substitute for her leviathan bed. She
sat up among pillows, blinking resentfully. Angelique at once had a pair
of bedroom screens brought in, and stretched a wall of privacy across
the corner thus occupied; but tante-gra'mere as promptly had them
rearranged to give her a tunnel for observation. In chaotic anger and
terror she snapped her whip at intervals.
"What is it, dear tante-gra'mere?" Angelique would inquire.
"Send Wachique down to bring up my bedstead."
"But, dear tante-gra'mere, Wachique would drown. The water is already
half way up the attic stairs."
"Am I to lie here on the floor like a slave?"
"Dear, there are six feather beds under you."
"How long is this to last?"
"Not long, I hope."
Peggy stood at the gable window and looked out at the seething night.
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