"Here I am left all day with no thoughts to rouse me but of that horrible old Comte d'Arcot, who is certainly coming from India, and to whom I am to be given like a box of rupees or a bale of sugar."
"It is a long way to India," said Nanon; "away round the end of the world at Cape Finisterre, and perhaps—perhaps——"
"Say on, Nanon."
"He may be drowned by the way."
"Ah! don't say so, Nanon!"
"Storms may arise, as they frequently do, and then ships are wrecked. There was M. la Perouse, who sailed away out into the wide ocean in the days of the late King Louis XV., and has never been heard of since. If stout young sailors drown, surely an old soldier like Comte d'Arcot may."
"I am almost wicked enough to wish it."
"I think I see something that will amuse you, mademoiselle."
"Mon Dieu! I am glad of that—what is it?"
"A party of soldiers."