She did not add that she had overheard Dido referring to Venus as a yellow wildcat who would be the better for a good lashing. She was slightly ashamed of herself for the warmth which this remark kindled in her toward Dido. Since Venus's return and restoration to favor, the girl had kept out of Theo's way. But she spent hours with Phoebe in the kitchen house, and she wielded an even greater influence over the slaves than she had before her escape. That this influence was hostile, Theo now knew definitely. The murmurs, the dark, quickly averted glares, the tardy and resentful obedience to her wishes—all these had begun again amongst the slaves. And yet there was nothing specific, nothing with which to confront Joseph. He remained oblivious. The niggers always obeyed him promptly enough. As for Venus—the girl's topaz eyes dewed with gratitude when they turned on maussa; in his presence her thin, voluptuous face wore a look of eager worship, highly flattering.

Theo knew that, to Joseph, Venus represented continual proof of his generosity, his humane treatment of his people; that he experienced a pleasant glow when he thought of her.

But I'm not going to think of Venus now—or anything disagreeable, said Theo to herself. There is peace here by the ocean and no worry.

No Joseph either. He had left for Columbia three days before. That his absence also contributed to the delightful relaxation of these days at the beach she did not admit to herself. In fact, during the next few weeks she scarcely thought of him at all.

Gampy grew plump and happy as he collected shells and dug holes in the sand with the wooden spade that Hector made for him. Dido justified Theo's confidence and produced delicious food. Hector and Cupid went fishing or crabbing daily, returning with succulent prizes. The household feasted on turtle eggs, oysters, clams, shrimps, and the delicate stone crabs. These Dido boiled in wine, flavored by a little herb which she had gathered herself upon the mainland. They all ate and slept prodigiously; even Eleanore was contented and ceased to grumble about le sale pays.

The ocean was for Theo a living presence, a companion. Its rhythm entered into her blood. Despite the horrified Eleanore's remonstrance, 'You will turn red as a boiled crab, Madame—so much sun is bad,' she lay long hours on the dazzling white beach, soaking up warmth and listening drowsily to the sea's thunderous music.

Lulled in this way by a rare sense of physical well-being, time lost its significance. Therefore, though she sent Hector to Georgetown twice a week for mail and was regularly dis appointed at receiving no word from her father, it was not until August that she became seriously disquieted.