A few weeks rolled delightfully away at the Villa de Thoisy, which my host informed me was an exact copy—so far as West-Indian requirements would permit—of his ancient ancestral mansion at the town of Thoisy, where, as he added, "one of the most Christian kings had kept one of his mistresses," on the small river Chalaronne, in old France. I rapidly became so well, that serious thoughts of rejoining the regiment at Bay Mahault occurred to me, but Lord Kildonan in a letter to the countess, which was brought by Tom Telfer, mentioned that I need not hurry myself, as all was quiet on the side of the island which was occupied by Victor Hugues and his particoloured forces.
Occasionally Haystone, Bruce, and others of ours, rode over to see me, and spend an evening with the de Thoisy girls; then we had always music and dancing, and, despite the heat of the weather, we red-coats flew about like fireflies in the waltz.
And how shall I describe the languor and charm of a tête-à-tête—flirtation, if you will—in a night in Guadaloupe, when windows, doors, and green jealousies are all thrown open, to admit the aromatic breeze that comes over savannahs of spices and sugar-canes, through forests laden with golden fruit, from the moonlit sea that rippled before the trade wind; or when seated in a bower the green leaves and brilliant flowers of which are visible as at noonday in the radiance of the queen of night, as she careered through the deep blue of a tropical sky; or when wandering in the avenues of fan-palms, with no light but the flaming summit of La Soufrière, or the stars that were reflected in the waters of the Rivière Sallee.
An undefinable sentiment of pique at Amy Lee determined me on falling in love with some one else. Of course, in this mood I soon did so; and Amy's presence, instead of being a bar, spurred me on: thus, ere many days were past, I was in love with Georgette.
I have said that she was beautiful; but, of course, every lover deems the object of his admiration to be so—or at least to exhibit perfection in some point. When her soft dark eyes met mine, I felt as if our very souls became incorporated, so deep and winning was their expression; and when she spoke, every pulse seemed to beat responsive to her own. To be constantly with such a girl, and not fall in love with her, was impossible. We drove, rode, talked, danced, and sketched together. As some one says,—
She sketch'd; the vale, the wood, the beach,
Grew lovelier from her pencil's shading.
She botanised; I envied each
Young blossom in her boudoir fading.
She warbled Handel; it was grand—
She might make Catalani jealous.
She touch'd the organ,—I could stand
For hours and hours to blow the bellows.
Yet I was always so timid in Georgette's presence, that I envied the cool impudence with which Haystone made love (without meaning it), in true garrison fashion, either to Claire or Julie, which of them mattered not a straw to him; for example, when leaning over the latter at the piano, I overheard a conversation in this style:—
"You have a charming bracelet, Mademoiselle Julie."
"Papa's gift on my last birthday. Are not the pearls magnificent?"
"On another arm than yours, Julie, they would be dazzling."