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 voudrois lui parler. 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.
Monsieur 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.