"Damn if I'll apologize to some mush-mouthed Southron. Why you taking her part, sonny? You sound like a Northern man."
"Chicago," he said with a nod. "I'm taking her part because you have the manners of a hog, and the South has no corner on respect for womanhood."
"Smart-mouthed little shit." The milky-eyed man drew his fist back. A woman shrieked. Suddenly, whistling down, Cooper's stick smashed the raised forearm. He struck a second time with the heavy gold knob, while the young man took hold of Marie-Louise's waist, lifted her, and set her out toward the curb, away from the press of people.
Breathing fast, the young man raised his fists defensively. It was an overly dramatic pose, but it thrilled Marie-Louise. Milk-Eye was groping for Cooper, who kept jabbing him with the ferrule of his stick. The rest of the crowd, though Republican, quickly turned against the uncouth pair. Hands restrained them. The speaker as well as several others offered exaggerated apologies.
Cooper pushed Milk-Eye aside with his cane. The young man lowered his fists. "Thank you, sir," Cooper said to him, brushing off his lapel. All at once he seemed to focus on the young man's face. He frowned. "We've met before."
"Not formally, sir. We saw one another on the railroad from Coosawhatchie some time back."
"Yes." Cooper froze him with that word. The crowd began to disperse. The speaker and the musicians blowing their fifes tramped away down Meeting Street in an impromptu parade. A few others joined them. Milk-Eye stood watching Marie-Louise and her two protectors until his companion convinced him to leave.
Cooper bowed.
"Cooper Main, sir. Your servant."
"Theo German, sir. Yours. I find it a pity that freedom to disagree was not tolerated here today."
Cooper shrugged, very cool toward him. Marie-Louise recalled how Papa had fumed when the young Northerner gave his seat to the black woman. "The new constitution is a ferocious issue, Mr. German. Our survival hinges upon its defeat."
"I am nevertheless in favor, sir."
"So I gather, sir, you not being a Carolinian."
"No, sir, I am only here temporarily, due to my, ah, job. I have rooms with Mrs. Petrie in Chalmers Street."
Marie-Louise looked past Papa's shoulder to the blue eyes of Theo German. She understood why he'd stated his address. Cooper suspected the reason, too.
"Papa, you haven't introduced me."
Icy, Cooper said, "My daughter, Marie-Louise Main, whom you so thoughtfully protected. I am in your debt." Cooper took her elbow. "Shall we go?"
Clouds above Meeting Street let through shafts of sunshine, one of which bathed the street near Hibernian Hall. Theo German's face shone like that of some golden statue. Marie-Louise felt faint.
The young man stepped forward abruptly. "Sir, I wonder if I might ask your permission —"
Oh, yes, she thought, dizzy with happiness. Before he could finish, Cooper literally pushed her toward the Mills House, interrupting. "Good afternoon, Mr. German."
In the carriage, aflame with resentment, she beat her gloved hands on her skirt. "Papa, how could you? He was about to ask permission to call."
"So I sensed. I don't believe we want any Yankee adventurers polluting Tradd Street. He's probably a Union League organizer, or something just as bad. He was a gentleman, I'll grant you that. But not enough of one to pay court to my daughter. When it's time for beaux, I'll inform you."
"Papa," she said, nearly weeping. He ignored her. He snapped the reins and swung the horse south toward Tradd Street. They rolled right by young Theo German, still standing outside Hibernian Hall with the golden light falling on him.
Chalmers Street, Chalmers Street, she thought, wanting to wave to him and not daring. I'm a grown woman. I'll not be told who to love. Mrs. Petrie, Chalmers Street.
Unknowingly, Cooper had just fueled a revolt.
Marie-Louise spent two days composing her note, on lavender paper. In it, she thanked Theo German effusively for guarding her honor, as she put it. Then, having weighed the worst consequences and pictured herself dealing with them, she added a final paragraph inviting him to attend the spring program at Mrs. Allwick's. Please address me here at the school if you care to reply, the note concluded. She signed her name, folded the paper, and wrote the school address on the outside. She moistened the note with a heavy floral perfume before waxing it shut.
The freedman who did odd jobs at the school took the note for delivery, asking no questions. The next day, a note came back, briefly and boldly inscribed:
I should be honored and privileged to accept your invitation.
Yours obediently,
Brvt. Capt. Theo. German
"Captain!" she exclaimed, hiding the letter against her bosom. Then he was indeed a Yankee adventurer. Probably one of those ex-soldiers who'd come down to plunder and pillage, as Papa put it. She hoped he hadn't been with Sherman. Papa would go insane.
She counted the days until the spring program, which fell a week after the elections. General Canby dispatched soldiers to watch polling places throughout the state and prevent interference with black voters. The new constitution was approved by some seventy thousand votes to twenty thousand. You might have thought a hurricane had struck Tradd Street. "Only six Democrats elected for thirty-one state Senate seats! And only fourteen Democratic representatives! The other one hundred ten are damned Black Republicans!"
"Cooper, please don't curse in front of your daughter," Judith said.
"We're ruined. We'll be bankrupt in a year." He remained in a rage up through the Tuesday night of the program.
Mrs. Allwick's on Legare was ablaze with lamps and tapers. Chairs were set around the fusty parlor, and a double curtain of white gauze and calico hung at the end adjoining the dining room. Behind the curtain, giggling girls in ivy wreaths and bed-sheet togas rushed to position themselves around Sara Jane Oberdorf, who had been chosen for the role of Southern Womanhood.
Marie-Louise no longer cared. She was tingling with expectancy. If this wasn't love, then it was something just as dizzying and delicious. She barely managed to stop chattering when Mrs. Allwick hissed for silence.
The curtain was pulled. Stiffly posed with the other girls, who represented Womanhood's handmaidens, Marie-Louise searched the audience. She almost fainted again. What a precious little dummy she was! Overlooking the obvious, assuming something totally incorrect.
All the chairs were filled by parents and relatives in their finery. He'd been forced to stand at the back, by the window bay overlooking the street. Thanks to all the lamps moved in for the program, he fairly glittered in his Army blue and bright metal buttons. He wasn't an ex-captain! He was a captain now.
And there in the second row sat her family, Papa visibly upset. His expression told her he knew he'd been defied. And over a Union Army officer. How would she ever explain?
She lost her balance, knocking Sara Jane off the box on which she stood. Southern Womanhood crashed into her handmaidens and spilled them like a bunch of circus tumblers. Children in the audience screamed with laughter, the tableau ended in chaos ... and the night was only starting.
The program concluded with the young ladies performing an elaborate quadrille. At the conclusion, a few parents immediately jumped up to applaud. Soon they were all standing. The curtain opened again, and Mrs. Allwick's pupils bowed to acknowledge the ovation. A couple of the girls giggled; because of her girth, Sara Jane had trouble bowing from the waist. While she attempted it, she shot murderous sideways looks at Marie-Louise. Cooper's daughter saw only the young officer, who was applauding wildly.