And the small universe around him was his to capture, his to fix and frame at the perfect instant in light and shadow exactly as he perceived: the shabby grandeur of the old city, faces of all nations, ragged trees, the ever-drifting clouds-this time and this place as it had shaped his childhood and the man he had become-from the melancholy spectacle of the barefoot vendeuse vendeuse who pa.s.sed him now on her way to market, to the majesty of the mourners on the Feast of All Saints. who pa.s.sed him now on her way to market, to the majesty of the mourners on the Feast of All Saints.

Time stopped in one sterling moment after another, time defeated in the little miracle of the Daguerreotype, time that was the destroyer of young men's dreams.

He turned his back to the river. He felt the vibrant hum of the awakening port. The streets were silver in the morning damp, and a lone marchande marchande in the Place d'Armes with her steaming cakes wound her way towards him, saluting him in a high-pitched song. The decision had been made, really; it had been lifted from him some time long before this moment, and he knew now what he must do. in the Place d'Armes with her steaming cakes wound her way towards him, saluting him in a high-pitched song. The decision had been made, really; it had been lifted from him some time long before this moment, and he knew now what he must do.

But as he commenced the long walk uptown, toward the bankers and the shopkeepers and the landlords and the dust and the ink and the tinkle of bra.s.s, an even greater perception was breaking from the sh.e.l.l of his soul. A future lay before him, a future beyond the rosy image of the planter's son roaming the capitals of Europe forever outside the things he loved. For this was something he himself could really do, something he himself could really be! And whatever happened, be it failure or the art in which he had always believed, no one could take it away from him, no one could nullify it, no one could ever wake him rudely to say it had all been a dream.

He felt close to Jean Jacques. He felt the fragrances of that small shop. He felt near to Christophe at the lectern, or bent over the lamplit desk the pen in hand.

And as his steps quickened, as the sun leaked down over the gabled roofs and through the rusted gates, he gazed in wonder at the streets about him, at the same old splendor and min he had known all his life, and for the first time, he felt, perhaps the world in all its unspeakable beauty could really belong to him.

BY ANNE RICE.

Interview with the VampireThe Feast of All SaintsCry to HeavenThe Vampire LestatThe Queen of the d.a.m.nedThe MummyThe Witching HourThe Tale of the Body ThiefLasherTaltosMemnoch the DevilServant of the BonesViolinPandora The Vampire Armand The Vampire ArmandVittorio, The VampireMerrickBlood and GoldBlackwood FarmBlood CanticleChrist the Lord: Out of EgyptChrist the Lord: Road to CanaCalled Out of Darkness: A Spiritual ConfessionAngel Time

ABOUT THE A AUTHORAnne Rice was born in New Orleans, where she now lives with her husband, the poet Stan Rice, and their son, Christopher.

AFTERWORD.

The Feast of All Saints is a work of fiction, but certain real people are mentioned in the book, among them the quardoon fencing master, Basile Crockere; the mulatto Daguerreotypist, Jules Lion; the colored inventor, Norbert Rillieux; and the Metoyer Family of the Cane River, including "Grandpere Augustin" who built the church of St. Augustine which exists on Isle Brevelle today. The "African house" described in the novel stands on the is a work of fiction, but certain real people are mentioned in the book, among them the quardoon fencing master, Basile Crockere; the mulatto Daguerreotypist, Jules Lion; the colored inventor, Norbert Rillieux; and the Metoyer Family of the Cane River, including "Grandpere Augustin" who built the church of St. Augustine which exists on Isle Brevelle today. The "African house" described in the novel stands on the Melrose Melrose Plantation which was called Yucca at the time this story takes place Plantation which was called Yucca at the time this story takes place.

L'Alb.u.m Litteraire, the quarterly of prose and poetry by men of color, probably commenced publication in 1843, not 1842 as the novel suggests the quarterly of prose and poetry by men of color, probably commenced publication in 1843, not 1842 as the novel suggests.

But aside from a few liberties with dates, every effort has been made to render the world of New Orleans Free People of Color accurately. And the occupations of real men and women of color provided the inspiration for the purely fictional characters in the book.

Therefore, I am deeply indebted to many who have written about New Orleans and the Free People of Color in the ante-bellum South, from the popular writers who have kept alive the romance and richness of those days to the scholars whose books, articles, theses and dissertations continue to swell the growing body of work on the free Afro-American before the Civil War.

But above all, I am indebted to the gens de couleur gens de couleur themselves who left us painting, sculpture, music and literature-to Armand La.n.u.sse, poet, editor and teacher, for his work with themselves who left us painting, sculpture, music and literature-to Armand La.n.u.sse, poet, editor and teacher, for his work with L'Alb.u.m Litteraire L'Alb.u.m Litteraire and the later anthology and the later anthology, Les Cenelles; and to R.L. Desdunes, whose unique and priceless and to R.L. Desdunes, whose unique and priceless Our People and Our History Our People and Our History remains the cornerstone of research in this field remains the cornerstone of research in this field.

ANNE R RICE.