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“If you’ll excuse me I’ll tell the girls to put on the extra plates for supper. Ask Titine for anything you want, and please don’t feel shy. We want you to be comfortable.” She curtseyed and closed the door, leaving Judith looking after her while Titine uncorded the box holding her clothes. Judith was conscious of a sense of awe. Such a casual, self-confident little person Gervaise was, as though she had never had a disturbing moment in her life. It must be women like her Philip had known on the gullah coast, women who knew how to meet strangers and supervise slaves and wear exquisite gowns, and move always with an air of smiling sophistication. Judith tossed her bonnet on the bed with dissatisfied vehemence. She was sophisticated about things like mutton-pies and chilblains. She felt out of place.
    “Young miss ready for de bath?” said a soft voice behind her.
    Judith turned around. Titine was standing respectfully by the wooden tub. She was slim and black, in a dress of blue calico and a yellow kerchief wrapped around her head.
    “Why yes,” said Judith, “as soon as I undress.”
    She wished Titine would go away. She was not used to taking off her clothes before strangers. But Titine came up to her and unpinned her dress and with deft hands began loosening the drawstrings of her petticoats. Judith smothered her astonishment. Evidently this was the custom of the country, though it was very odd to stand up stark naked in front of a slave-girl and then to be bathed like a baby. But after her first shock she found that though it might be immodest it was very convenient. She had always had trouble washing her back. Being a helpless female was really quite nice. This must be what Philip meant when he said he would make her a great lady.
    “Miss wear dis here to supper?” Titine inquired.
    She was holding up Judith’s best gown, a blue muslin that her father had said was too frail to bring into a jungle, but which seemed very sturdy beside the flimsy elegance of Gervaise. “Oh yes,” said Judith, noticing that Titine had laid fresh stockings and underwear in a neat line across the bed. Placing the blue muslin by them, Titine held out a chemise Judith had washed three days ago in a bayou. Judith stepped into it obediently, and sat down while Titine fetched her stockings. It was hard to see how anybody could put on anybody else’s stockings, pulling backwards, but Titine evidently took it for granted that no white lady could be expected to perform such a task for herself, and she knelt and drew the stockings up with expert speed.
    It was all strange, but surprisingly easy to get used to.
    Then Titine brought curling irons and a lighted candle in a wire frame and a pink jar holding scented pomade. She put the irons on the frame to heat, and combed Judith’s hair high over strips of cotton. Little ringlets were patted over her forehead with pomade, and the irons set curls to bouncing on her neck. When everything was done Titine set a mirror on the chest of drawers and Judith turned around slowly.
    The mirror was narrow, but long enough for her to see herself halfway down. Her head felt as if she were carrying a basket balanced on it and her stays were laced so tight she could hardly breathe, but she gave a little gasp of joy at her reflection. Nobody had ever told her how gracefully her shoulders sloped or how small her waistline was. She looked fragile, delicate, crushable—she looked—Judith leaned over the drawers and stared at herself—she looked like the kind of girl Philip was used to. If everything else was as easy as this—?
    There was a tap on the door and Gervaise came in.
    “If you are ready, shall we go to the dining-room?” Then she stopped. “But how different you are, now that you’re dressed! It’s such a relief, isn’t it, to end a hard journey and get back to civilized living!”
    “Why—yes,” said Judith.
    She hesitated, looking at the mirror and then back at Gervaise, wondering