attended by three or four young female slaves, of different complexions, but none of pure African blood.  Others were seated upon the different Persian carpets about the room, in listless idleness, or strewing the petals of the orange-flower, to perfume the apartment with its odour.  The only negro was a little boy, about six years of age, dressed in a fantastic costume, who sat in a corner, apparently in a very sulky humour.  Madame de Fontanges was a Creole,—­that is, born in the West Indies of French parents.  She had been sent home to France for her education, and had returned at the age of fourteen to Guadaloupe, where she soon after married Monsieur de Fontanges, an officer of rank, and brother to the governor of the island.  Her form was diminutive, but most perfect; her hand and arm models for the statuary; while her feet were so small as almost to excite risibility when you observed them.  Her features were regular, and when raised from her usual listlessness, full of expression.  Large hazel eyes, beautifully pencilled eyebrows, with long fringed eyelashes, dark and luxuriant hair, Grecian nose, small mouth, with thin coral lips, were set off by a complexion which even the climate could not destroy, although it softened it into extreme delicacy.

Such was the person of Madame de Fontanges, now about eighteen years old, and one of the most beautiful specimens of the French Creole which could be imagined.  Her perfect little figure needed no support; she was simply attired in a muslin robe de chambre, as she reposed upon the ottoman, waiting with all the impatience of her caste for the setting in of the sea-breeze, which would give some relief from the oppressive heat of the climate.

“Eventez!  Nina, eventez!” cried she to one of her attendants, who was standing at the head of the sofa with a large feather fan.

“Oui, madame,” replied the girl, stirring up the dormant atmosphere.

“Eventez!  Caroline, eventez mes mains, vite.”

“Oui, madame,” replied the second, working away with another fan.

“Eventez! eventez mes pieds, Mimi.”

“Oui, madame,” replied the third, fanning in the direction pointed out.

“Louise,” said Madame de Fontanges, languidly, after a short pause, “apportez-moi de l’eau sucree.”

“Oui, madame,” replied another, rising, in obedience to the order.

“Non, non!  Je n’en veux pas—­mais j’ai soif horrible.  Manchette, va chercher de l’eau cerise.”

“Oui, madame,” replied Manchette, rising from her seat.  But she had not quitted the room before Madame de Fontanges had changed her mind.

“Attendez, Manchette.  Ce n’est pas ca.  Je voudrais de limonade.  Charlotte, va l’en chercher.”

“Oui, madame,” said Charlotte, leaving the room to execute the order.

“Ah, mon Dieu! qu’il fait une chaleur epouvantable.

“Mimi, que tu es paresseuse?  Eventez! vite, vite.