After emancipation was declared, and old Foteen was given his freedom, he asked to remain with the family in the old capacity; and he was given a home in the quarters, rent free as long as he lived; wages for his services; and was taken care of with every attention due so worthy a retainer. One by one, the members of the family passed on to the Great Beyond, none remaining to enjoy the luxury of the fine old house and carry on the splendid family tradition except Madame Guillaume and young Sylvain, her son; who was away availing himself of the benefits of one of the “big Yankee colleges”;—a fact both abhorrent and inexplicable to many of Madame’s unreconstructed Creole friends. Picturesque and solitary, she lived on through the changing years, dreaming of the fateful past and looking forward with childish expectation to the home-coming of her accomplished son. Her daily life was ordered with little change from the old-time dignity and convention: Aunt Choote and her numerous children looking after the household and kitchen; Uncle Foteen driving her to church on Sunday in the old creaking barouche, taking part in her sentimental reminiscences, and sharing the fitful dreams and wandering fancies of forgetfulness that became actualities to both their weary minds. One morning old Choote announced to the astonished members of her family that Madame Guillaume was “ceasded.” Going to the bedroom door with the customary cup of early morning black coffee, there was no response to her gentle knock. She approached the bed-side fearfully, and lifting the mosquito net, found her old Madame “stone-col’, her body hyuh an’ her soul yonder.” Young Sylvain being abroad with a party of tourists, the funeral was held without his being present. Several weeks later, he was expected home, and the lonely old house was undergoing elaborate preparations befitting his return. Uncle Foteen was going about, a pathetic figure, re-living the seeming reality of his past importance; mistaking young Sylvain for his old master, and telling everyone he met, that “ole Marse Sylvain done come home, an’ de fam’ly goin’ have big jubilation.” When Sylvain arrived, Uncle Foteen embraced him with unrestrained emotion; calling him master; giving him lively accounts of the imaginary doings of the departed family; and rejoicing in the prospect of driving him to church on Sunday, “to show him off to all Gritny, settin’ up proud in de barouche, ’long wid Ma’am Guillaume, Mamzelle Olympe, an’ all dem chillun.” Sylvain soon discovered that the old man’s memory was uncertain, and he humored his infirmity. “He bin childish for a good w’ile,” Choote told him. “An’ he mistake evvbody for somebody else bin dead a long time.”