The supper consisted of cold fowls, ham, and tongue, served up with anchovies, caviare, and several kinds of sauces. There were fruits, sweetmeats, limes preserved in sugar, and wines of various kinds, but chiefly malmsey and vidonia—the former flavoured like canary, and the latter brisk and dry like sherry, but coloured with tent. While pressing all these good things upon me, I observed that my fair hostess drank only a little cooled citron water—a famous cordial in the Antilles; but the entire novelty of my situation and perplexity as to who this lady was—whether maid, wife, or widow—deprived me of all appetite; while the charming frankness the gaiety, and unconcealed coquetry of her manner, made me, at the few years I had then attained, peculiarly liable to any snare she might set for me. These ideas ran swiftly through my mind while seated by her side; and in truth, such is the force of evil example, and such were the recklessness and easy disposition of those among whom my lot had latterly been cast by sea and land, that I can scarcely be surprised at the flexibility or laxity of principle, which rendered me tolerably careless as to how my new and beautiful friend was related in life. My chief curiosity was to learn her name—my desire to please her.
"May I ask how far I am from the garrison?"
"The garrison—always that tiresome garrison!" said she, selecting some grapes from a basket; "you are, I know not how far; but what does it matter, child, especially in such a storm as this?"
"And this place—how is it named?"
"Boscobelle."
"The beautiful wood?"
"Oui, monsieur, and a charming place you will find it, though that odious serpent was your introducteur."
"And—pardon me—your name, madame?"
She changed colour and paused.
"What matters my name?" she asked, with a lovely smile; "are you tired of me?"