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.
"Éventez! Nina, éventez!" 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.
"Éventez! Caroline, éventez mes mains, vite."
"Oui, madame," replied the second, working away with another fan.
"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 sucrée."
"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 ça. 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 épouvantable.
"Mimi, que tu es paresseuse? Eventez! vite, vite.
"Ah! qu'il est heureux. Et Cupidon--où est-il?"
"Ah, madame! Il a volé le dindon rôti, et l'a tout mangé."
"Ah, le petit polisson! Venez ici, Cupidon."
Cupidon, the little negro-boy we have before mentioned as sitting in the corner of the room, walked up with a very deliberate pace to the side of the ottoman, his two thick lips sticking out about six inches in advance of the remainder of his person.
"Cupidon," said the lady, turning a little on one side to speak to him, "tu as mangé le dindon entier. Tu as mal fait, mon ami. Tu seras malade. Comprends-tu, Cupidon, c'est une sottise que tu as fait?"
Cupidon made no reply; his head was hung down a little lower, and his lips extended a little further out.
"Sache que tu es un petite voleur!" continued his mistress.