As they neared Mistress Louder’s boardinghouse, they could see a burly man bounding out into the street, then returning immediately through the garden gate. “Is that a man or a big rubber ball?” asked Jean-Jacques.

“It’s Mr. Fink,” said Arthur Stuart. “I think he’s watching for us.”

“Or is it Gargantua?” asked Jean-Jacques.

“More like Pantagruel,” said Arthur Stuart.

Jean-Jacques stopped cold. Alvin and Arthur turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?” asked Alvin.

“The boy knows Rabelais?” asked Jean-Jacques.

“Who’s that?” asked Alvin.

“Alvin was asleep that day, too,” said Arthur Stuart.

Jean-Jacques looked back and forth between them. “You and you have attend to school together?”

Alvin knew what Audubon must be thinking—that Alvin must be a dunce to have gone to school at the same time as a child. “We had the same teacher,” said Alvin.

“And she taught us in the same room at the same time,” said Arthur Stuart.

“Only we didn’t always get the same lesson,” said Alvin.

“Yeah, I got Rabelais and Plato,” said Arthur Stuart, “and Alvin married the schoolteacher.”

Jean-Jacques laughed out loud. “That is so pleasant! Your wife is a schoolteacher but this slaveboy is the top student!”

“Reckon so, except one thing,” said Alvin. “The boy is free.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I mean to say, this Black boy.”

“Half-Black,” Arthur Stuart corrected him.

“Which make you half-White,” said Jean-Jacques. “But when I look at you, I see only the Black half. Is this not curious?”

“When Black folks look at me,” said Arthur Stuart, “they see only the White half.”

“But the secret about you,” said Jean-Jacques, “is that deep in your heart, you know Rabelais!”

“What does that have to do with Black and White?” asked Alvin.

“It have to do that all this Black and White just make this boy laugh inside. When you are laughing deep down where no one else can see, Rabelais is there. Yes, Arthur Stuart?”

“Rabelais,” said Alvin. “Was that the book about the big huge fat guy?”

“So you did read it?”

“No,” said Alvin. “I got embarrassed and gave it back to Miz Lamer. Margaret, I mean. You can’t talk about things like that with a lady!”

“Ah,” said Jean-Jacques. “Your schoolteacher began as Miz Lamer, but now she is Margaret. Next you will call her ‘mama,’ n’est-ce pas?”

Alvin got a little tight-lipped at that. “Maybe you French folks like to read nasty books and all, but in America you don’t go talking about a man’s wife having babies.”

“Oh, you plan to get them some other way?” Jean-Jacques laughed again. “Look, Pantagruel has seen us! He is coming to crush us!”

Mike Fink strode angrily toward them. “You know what damn time it is!” he called out.

People nearby looked at him and glared.

“Watch your language,” Alvin said. “You want to get fined?”

“I wanted to get to Trenton before nightfall,” said Mike.

“How, you got a train ticket?” asked Alvin.

“Good afternoon, Pantagruel. I am Jean-Jacques Audubon.”