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"The Mejuffrouws Roosevelt, in Dutch. They live here in Amsterdam."
    Francesca questioned him in Portuguese. When she learned that Romell would be leaving, she shook her head sadly and patted Romell’s face.
    "Tell her I will be forever grateful for her kindness," Romell said to Adrien. "Tell her I'll come back to see her when I can."
    After she was alone in the carriage with Adrien, Romell asked him how many other languages he spoke besides Dutch and Portuguese and English. "I know only English and French," she said.
    "I speak French and have a smattering of Spanish," he told her. "Actually, my Portuguese is quite poor and my Dutch only fair."
    "Did you study these languages? From what my father said I thought only Latin and Greek were taught in the English schools."
    "I was tutored in French," Adrien said. "The others I picked up as I heard them. You'll find Dutch easy to learn."
    "I hope so." She glanced at him. Today he seemed politely friendly. She would be the same. There was no need for them to remain enemies. After all, it was not likely that she'd see him again after she was united with her cousins. Romell swallowed, suddenly feeling an aching sense of loss. Never see Adrien again?
    "What are your plans?" she asked him.
    "I'm not certain yet. I may go to France. On the other hand, I have a friend in Sumatra. I may try to join him."
    "Sumatra? Where is that, pray?"
    "In the East Indies, an island west of Java. These Hollanders have most of the Indies spice trade, but England has a factory in Sumatra. We're on the way to establishing ourselves in the East Indies."
    "I've heard of Java," she said. "The East Indies seems so far away."
    "At least a six-month voyage in a Dutch East Indiaman."
    "You won't be staying in Holland then."
    Adrien shook his head. The carriage clattered up, then down a hump-backed bridge over a wide river. "The Amstel," he told her.
    They passed rows of the tall thin redbrick houses with their sandstone decorations, all very much alike except for the different designs of the gables. The houses grew fewer and farther apart, but Romell saw new ones in various stages of building. Everywhere people seemed to be busy.
    "Amsterdam is so much cleaner than London," she remarked.
    Adrien grimaced. "Cleaner, wealthier, and far duller." He gestured out the window. "Look at them—dressed in black, decent, hardworking, pious men. Clever merchants, wily traders."
    "Don't you like Hollanders? I found Francesca Bonus delightful."
    " Mevrouw Bonus is not Dutch. She is a Jewess. The family fled religious persecution in Portugal years ago, bringing their diamond-cutting skills with them. I fear you'll find your Roosevelt cousins quite different from her." He paused, looking away.
    Romell waited, but he didn't go on. "I'd welcome your suggestions," she said finally.
    "If I were you, I'd mind my manners once you're with your cousins," he told her. "They're older and strict Calvanists, from what I've managed to discover. They'll expect circumspect behavior on your part. You know-- demure, ladylike. I'm afraid they'd find your unchaperoned trip with me shocking."
    She stared at him. Was he saying she didn't behave like a lady? That she was forward and bold? If the trip had been shocking, it was certainly more his fault than hers.
    "How kind of you to point out my deficiencies," she said coolly.
    Adrien drew in a deep breath, let it out. "I am merely attempting to help you fit into a Dutch household. You have—"
    "How dare you say no one will like me as I am?" Romell clenched her hands into fists as she turned on the seat to face him. "Do you think everyone is another Adrien Montgomery? Like me you may not, but change me you shan't!"
    His blue eyes flashed. "I have only your best interests at heart. If you must live with those stiff-necked old spinsters, it's best you realize from the beginning what they'll expect of you."
    "I'll manage, thank you. And you needn't make sport of my cousins simply because they've