Part 14 (2/2)

”'Pon honour, I do not.”

”Make em lub me. Dat's what I should hab say.”

”But whom?”

”All de white gen'l'm. De young planter, de officer ob de Fort--all ob dem. Wif you hair, Miss Looey, I could dem all make conquess.”

”Ha--ha--ha!” laughed the young lady, amused at the idea of Florinda figuring under that magnificent chevelure. ”You think, with my hair upon your head, you would be invincible among the men?”

”No, missa--not you hair alone--but wif you sweet face--you skin, white as de alumbaster--you tall figga--you grand look. Oh, Miss Looey, you am so 'plendidly bewful! I hear de white gen'l'm say so. I no need hear em say it. I see dat for masef.”

”You're learning to flatter, Florinda.”

”No, 'deed, missa--ne'er a word ob flattery--ne'er a word, I swa it. By de 'postles, I swa it.”

To one who looked upon her mistress, the earnest a.s.severation of the maid was not necessary to prove the sincerity of her speech, however hyperbolical it might appear. To say that Louise Poindexter was beautiful, would only be to repeat the universal verdict of the society that surrounded her. A single glance was sufficient to satisfy any one upon this point--strangers as well as acquaintances. It was a kind of beauty that needed no _discovering_--and yet it is difficult to describe it. The pen cannot portray swell a face. Even the pencil could convey but a faint idea of it: for no painter, however skilled, could represent upon cold canvas the glowing ethereal light that emanated from her eyes, and appeared to radiate over her countenance. Her features were purely cla.s.sic: resembling those types of female beauty chosen by Phidias or Praxiteles. And yet in all the Grecian Pantheon there is no face to which it could have been likened: for it was not the countenance of a G.o.ddess; but, something more attractive to the eye of man, the face of a woman.

A suspicion of sensuality, apparent in the voluptuous curving of the lower lip--still more p.r.o.nounced in the prominent rounding beneath the cheeks--while depriving the countenance of its pure spiritualism, did not perhaps detract from its beauty. There are men, who, in this departure from the divine type, would have perceived a superior charm: since in Louise Poindexter they would have seen not a divinity to be wors.h.i.+pped, but a woman to be loved.

Her only reply vouchsafed to Florinda's earnest a.s.severation was a laugh--careless, though not incredulous. The young Creole did not need to be reminded of her beauty. She was not unconscious of it: as could be told by her taking more than one long look into the mirror before which her toilet was being made. The flattery of the negress scarce called up an emotion; certainly not more than she might have felt at the fawning of a pet spaniel; and she soon after surrendered herself to the reverie from which the speech had aroused her.

Florinda was not silenced by observing her mistress's air of abstraction. The girl had evidently something on her mind--some mystery, of which she desired the _eclairciss.e.m.e.nt_--and was determined to have it.

”Ah!” she continued, as if talking to herself; ”if Florinda had half de charm ob young missa, she for n.o.body care--she for n.o.body heave do deep sigh!”

”Sigh!” repeated her mistress, suddenly startled by the speech. ”What do you mean by that?”

”Pa' dieu, Miss Looey, Florinda no so blind you tink; nor so deaf neider. She you see long time sit in de same place; you nebber 'peak no word--you only heave de sigh--de long deep sigh. You nebba do dat in de ole plantashun in Loozyanny.”

”Florinda! I fear you are taking leave of your senses, or have left them behind you in Louisiana? Perhaps there's something in the climate here that affects you. Is that so, girl?”

”Pa' dieu, Miss Looey, dat question ob youself ask. You no be angry case I 'peak so plain. Florinda you slave--she you lub like brack sisser. She no happy hear you sigh. Dat why she hab take de freedom.

You no be angry wif me?”

”Certainly not. Why should I be angry with you, child? I'm not. I didn't say I was; only you are quite mistaken in your ideas. What you've seen, or heard, could be only a fancy of your own. As for sighing, heigho! I have something else to think of just now. I have to entertain about a hundred guests--nearly all strangers, too; among them the young planters and officers whom you would entangle if you had my hair. Ha! ha! ha! _I_ don't desire to enmesh them--not one of them!

So twist it up as you like--without the semblance of a snare in it.”

”Oh! Miss Looey, you so 'peak?” inquired the negress with an air of evident interest. ”You say none ob dem gen'l'm you care for? Dere am two, tree, berry, berry, berry han'som'. One planter dar be, and two ob de officer--all young gen'l'm. You know de tree I mean. All ob dem hab been 'tentive to you. You sure, missa, tain't one ob dem dat you make sigh?”

”Sigh again! Ha! ha! ha! But come, Florinda, we're losing time.

Recollect I've got to be in the drawing-room to receive a hundred guests. I must have at least half an hour to compose myself into an att.i.tude befitting such an extensive reception.”

”No fear, Miss Looey--no fear. I you toilette make in time--plenty ob time. No much trouble you dress. Pa' dieu, in any dress you look 'plendid. You be de belle if you dress like one ob de fiel' hand ob de plantashun.”

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