“Go home, Monsieur de Balzac. America is better because you came, and France will be better when you return.”

“It is a shame you are married so completely,” said Balzac. “I have never loved any woman the way I love you in this moment.”

“Nonsense,” said Margaret. “It is yourself you love. I merely brought you a good report of your loved one.” She smiled. “God bless you.”

Balzac took Calvin’s hand. “It does me no good to speak to him. Tell him I did my best but I must to go home.”

“I will tell him that you remain his true friend.”

“Do not go too far in this!” said Balzac in mock horror. “I do not wish him to visit me.”

Margaret shrugged. “If he does, you’ll deal with him.”

Balzac bowed over her hand and kissed it. Then he took off at a jaunty pace along the sidewalk.

Margaret turned to Calvin. She could see that he was pale, his skin white and patchy-looking. He stank. “This won’t do,” she said. “It’s time to find where they’ve put you.”

She led the docile shell of a man into the boarding-house. She toyed with the idea of leaving him in the public room, but imagined what would happen if he started breaking wind or worse. So she led him up the stairs. He climbed them readily enough, but with each step she had to pull him on to the next, or he’d just stand there. The idea of completing the whole flight of stairs in one sweep was more than his distracted attention could deal with.

Fishy was in the hall when Margaret reached her floor. Margaret was gratified to see that as soon as Fishy recognized who it was, she shed the bowed posture of slavery and looked her full in the eye. “Ma’am, you can’t bring no gentleman to this floor.”

Margaret calmly unlocked her door and pushed Calvin inside as she answered. “I can assure you, he’s not a gentleman.”

Moments later, Fishy slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Ma’am, it’s a scandal. She throw you out.” Only then did she look at Calvin. “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Fishy, I need your help. To bring this man back to himself.” As briefly as she could, she told Fishy what had happened with Calvin.

“He the one send my name back to me?”

“I’m sure he didn’t realize what he was doing. He’s frightened and desperate.”

“I don’t know if I be hating him,” said Fishy. “I hurt all the time now. But I know I be hurting.”

“You’re a whole woman now,” said Margaret. “That makes you free, even in your slavery.”

“This one, he gots the power to put all the names back?”

“I don’t know.”

“The Black man who take the names, I don’t know his name. Be maybe I know his face, iffen I see him.”

“And you have no idea where they take the names?”

“Nobody know. Nobody wants to. Can’t tell what you don’t know.”