Madame de Fonbonne was a fat little woman, of about fifty years of age, very pretending, and very ridiculous. Her fat double chin rested on her equally fat throat; and she was continually talking, with upturned eyes, of her tender, her sensitive soul; the languor of her soul; the craving of her soul; the aspirations of her soul. To these disadvantages, she added the additional one of being particularly ill-dressed, upon the present occasion, in a horrible-looking copper-coloured turban, with a sprinkling of green flowers over it.
"Yes," again asserted De Lucenay, in his loudest voice, "that charming anecdote shall be told to Madame de Fonbonne."
"May I be permitted, my lord duke, to inquire the subject of your conversation?" said the lady thus apostrophised, who, hearing her name mentioned, immediately commenced her usual mincing, bridling attempts to draw up her chubby self, but, failing in the effort, fell back upon the easier manœuvre of "rolling up the whites of her eyes," as it is commonly called.
"It refers, madame, to a most horribly indecent, revolting, and strange story."
"Heaven bless me! and who dares—oh, dear me, who would venture—"
"I would, madame. I can answer for the truth of the anecdote, and that it would make a stick or a stone blush to hear it; but, as I am aware how dearly you love such stories, I will relate it to you. You must know, then, that in Otaheite—"
"My lord," exclaimed the indignant lady, turning up her eyes with indignant horror, "it really is surprising you can allow yourself to—"
"Now for those unkind looks you shall not hear my pretty story either, though I had been reserving it for you. And, now I look at you, I can but wonder that you, so celebrated for the taste and good style of your dress, should have put that wretched thing on your head for a turban, but which looks more like an old copper baking-dish spotted all over with verdigris." So saying, the duke, as if charmed with his own wit, burst into a loud and long peal of laughter.
"If, my lord," exclaimed the enraged lady, "you merely returned from the East to resume your offensive jokes, which are tolerated because you are supposed to be only half in your senses, all who know you are bound to hope you intend to return as quickly as you came;" saying which she arose, and majestically waddled away.
"I tell you what, Lady Macgregor, if I don't take devilish good care, I shall let fly at that stupid old prude and pull her old stew-pan off her head," said M. de Lucenay, thrusting his hands deep down into his pockets as if to prevent their committing the retaliating mischief he contemplated. "But no," said he, after a pause, "I won't hurt the 'sensitive soul,' poor innocent thing! Ha! ha! ha! Besides, think of her being an orphan at her tender age!" And renewed peals of laughter announced that the imagination of the duke had again found a fresh fund of amusement in some reminiscence of Madame de Fonbonne; which, however, soon gave place to an expression of surprise, as the figure of the commandant, sauntering towards them, caught his eye.