"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.