"What elegance and grandeur wide expand,
The pride of Turkey and of Persia land!
Soft quilts on quilts, on carpets carpets spread,
And couches stretch'd around in seemly band,
And endless pillows rise to prop the head.
* * * * *
Here languid Beauty kept her pale-faced court."
THOMSON.
The female slaves who could not obtain the history of Newton immediately
repaired to the chamber of their mistress, knowing that if they could
succeed in raising her curiosity, they would at the same time gratify
their own. Madame de Fontanges was, as they asserted, in her chamber,
or, what may now be more correctly styled, her boudoir. It was a room
about fourteen feet square, the sides of which were covered with a
beautiful paper, representing portions of the history of Paul and
Virginia: the floor was covered with fine matting, with here and there a
small Persian carpet above it. Small marble tables were decorated with a
variety of ornaments and French perfumes, or vases filled with the
splendid flowers of a tropical clime. There was a large window at each
end of the room, cut down to the ground, in the French fashion; and
outside of both was a little balcony--the trellice-work covered with
passion-flower and clematis. The doors and other compartments of the room
were not papered, but had French mirrors let into the pannelling. On a low
ottoman of elegant workmanship, covered with a damasked French silk,
reposed Madame de Fontanges, attended by three or four young female slaves,
of different complexions, but none of pure African blood. Others were
seated upon the different Persian carpets about the room, in listless
idleness, or strewing the petals of the orange-flower, to perfume the
apartment with its odour. The only negro was a little boy, about six years
of age, dressed in a fantastic costume, who sat in a corner, apparently in
a very sulky humour. Madame de Fontanges was a Creole,--that is, born in
the West Indies of French parents. She had been sent home to France for her
education, and had returned at the age of fourteen to Guadaloupe, where
she soon after married Monsieur de Fontanges, an officer of rank, and
brother to the governor of the island. Her form was diminutive, but most
perfect; her hand and arm models for the statuary; while her feet were
so small as almost to excite risibility when you observed them. Her
features were regular, and when raised from her usual listlessness,
full of expression. Large hazel eyes, beautifully pencilled eyebrows,
with long fringed eyelashes, dark and luxuriant hair, Grecian nose,
small mouth, with thin coral lips, were set off by a complexion which
even the climate could not destroy, although it softened it into extreme
delicacy.
Such was the person of Madame de Fontanges, now about eighteen years
old, and one of the most beautiful specimens of the French Creole which
could be imagined. Her perfect little figure needed no support; she was
simply attired in a muslin _robe de chambre_, as she reposed upon the
ottoman, waiting with all the impatience of her caste for the setting in
of the sea-breeze, which would give some relief from the oppressive heat
of the climate.
"Éventez! Nina, éventez!" cried she to one of her attendants, who was
standing at the head of the sofa with a large feather fan.
"Oui, madame," replied the girl, stirring up the dormant atmosphere.
"Éventez! Caroline, éventez mes mains, vite."
"Oui, madame," replied the second, working away with another fan.
"Éventez! éventez mes pieds, Mimi."
"Oui, madame," replied the third, fanning in the direction pointed out.
"Louise," said Madame de Fontanges, languidly, after a short pause,
"apportez-moi de l'eau sucrée."
"Oui, madame," replied another, rising, in obedience to the order.
"Non, non! Je n'en veux pas--mais j'ai soif horrible. Manchette, va
chercher de l'eau cerise."
"Oui, madame," replied Manchette, rising from her seat. But she had not
quitted the room before Madame de Fontanges had changed her mind.
"Attendez, Manchette. Ce n'est pas ça. Je voudrais de limonade.
Charlotte, va l'en chercher."
"Oui, madame," said Charlotte, leaving the room to execute the order.
"Ah, mon Dieu! qu'il fait une chaleur épouvantable.
"Mimi, que tu es paresseuse? Eventez! vite, vite.
"Où est Monsieur?"
"Monsieur dort."
"Ah! qu'il est heureux. Et Cupidon--où est-il?"
"II est ici, au coin, madame. Il boude."
"Qu'est-ce qu'il a fait donc?"
"Ah, madame! Il a volé le dindon rôti, et l'a tout mangé."
"Ah, le petit polisson! Venez ici, Cupidon."
Cupidon, the little negro-boy we have before mentioned as sitting in the
corner of the room, walked up with a very deliberate pace to the side of
the ottoman, his two thick lips sticking out about six inches in advance
of the remainder of his person.
"Cupidon," said the lady, turning a little on one side to speak to him,
"tu as mangé le dindon entier. Tu as mal fait, mon ami. Tu seras malade.
Comprends-tu, Cupidon, c'est une sottise que tu as fait?"
Cupidon made no reply; his head was hung down a little lower, and his
lips extended a little further out.
"Sache que tu es un petite voleur!" continued his mistress.
Cupidon did not condescend to answer.
"Allez, monsieur; ne m'approchez pas."
Cupidon turned short round without reply, and walked back to his corner
with the same deliberate pace as before, when he came out of it.
Charlotte now returned with the lemonade for which she had been
despatched, and informed her mistress as she presented it, that
Nicholas, who had charge of the schooner, had returned with an European
prisoner; but that neither he nor Gustave would give her any further
information, although she had requested it in the name of her mistress.
This was quite an event, and gave a fillip to the inertness of Madame de
Fontanges, whose curiosity was excited.
"A-t-il bonne mine, Charlotte?"
"Oui, madame, c'est un bel homme."
"Et où est-il?"
"Avec Nicholas."
"Et Monsieur?"
"Monsieur dort."
"Il faut l'éveiller. Faites bien mes compliments au Monsieur de
Fontanges, et dites-lui que je me trouve fort malade, et que je voudrais
lui parier. Entends-tu, Céleste; je parle à toi."
"Oui, madame," replied the girl, throwing some orange flowers off her
lap, and rising to deliver her message.
M. de Fontanges, who, like most of the Europeans, slept through the
hottest portion of the day, rose in compliance with his wife's message,
and made his appearance in the boudoir, dressed in a white cotton jacket
and trousers. A few polite inquiries after the health of Madame de
Fontanges, which, as he had conjectured from similar previous
occurrences, was not worse than usual, were followed by his receiving
from her the information of Newton's arrival, coupled with an
observation, that it would amuse her if the prisoner were interrogated
in her presence.
Newton was summoned to the boudoir, where M. de Fontanges, who spoke
very good English, received from him the history of his disasters, and
translated them into French, to gratify the curiosity of his wife.
"C'est un beau garçon," observed M. de Fontanges. "Mais que faire? Il
est prisonnier. Il faut l'envoyer à mon frère, le gouverneur."
"Il est joli garçon," replied Madame de Fontanges.
"Donnez-lui des habits, Fontanges; et ne l'envoyez pas encore."
"Et pourquoi, mon amie?"
"Je voudrais lui apprendre le Français."
"Cela ne se peut pas, ma chère; il est prisonnier."
"Cela se peut, Monsieur de Fontanges," replied the lady.
"Je n'ose pas," continued the husband.
"Moi j'ose," replied the lady, decidedly.
"Je ne voudrais pas," said the gentleman.
"Moi, je veux," interrupted the lady.
"Mais il faut être raisonnable, madame."
"II faut m'obéir, monsieur."
"Mais------"
"Pschut!" replied the lady; "c'est une affaire décidée. Monsieur le
gouverneur ne parle pas l'Anglais. C'est _absolument nécessaire_ que le
jeune homme apprenne notre langue; et c'est mon plaisir de l'enseigner.
Au revoir, Monsieur de Fontanges. Charlotte, va chercher des habits."