Maggie, the Irishwoman, was very taciturn.  She never mingled with us, nor spoke to any one except Suzanne, and to her in monosyllables only when addressed.  You would see her sometimes sitting alone at the bow of the boat, sewing, knitting, or saying her beads.  During this last occupation her eyes never quitted Alix.  One would say it was to her she addressed her prayers; and one day, when she saw my regard fixed upon Alix, she said to me: 

“It does me good to look at her; she must look like the Virgin Mary.”

Her little form, so graceful and delicate, had, however, one slight defect; but this was hidden under the folds of her robe or of the scarf that she knew how to arrange with such grace.  One shoulder was a trifle higher than the other.

After having greeted my father, whom she already knew, she turned to us, hesitated a moment, and then, her two little hands extended, and with a most charming smile, she advanced, first to me and then to Suzanne, and embraced us both as if we had been old acquaintances.  And from that moment we were good friends.

It had been decided that the boat should not travel by night, notwithstanding the assurance of Carlo, who had a map of Attakapas.  But in the Mississippi there was no danger; and as papa was pressed to reach our plantation, we traveled all that first night.

The next day Alix—­she required us to call her by that name—­invited us to visit her in her room.  Suzanne and I could not withhold a cry of surprise as we entered the little chamber. (Remember one thing:  papa took nothing from home, not knowing even by what means we should return; but the Carpentiers were going for good and taking everything.) Joseph had had the rough walls whitewashed.  A cheap carpet—­but high-priced in those times—­of bright colors covered the floor; a very low French bed occupied one corner, and from a sort of dais escaped the folds of an embroidered bobbinet mosquito-bar.  It was the first mosquito-bar of that kind we had ever seen.  Alix explained that she had made it from the curtains of the same bed, and that both bed and curtains she had brought with her from England.  New mystery!

Beside the bed a walnut dressing-table and mirror, opposite to it a washstand, at the bed’s foot a priedieu, a center-table, three chairs—­these were all the furniture; but [an enumeration follows of all manner of pretty feminine belongings, in crystal, silver, gold, with a picture of the crucifixion and another of the Virgin].  On the shelves were a rich box of colors, several books, and some portfolios of music.  From a small peg hung a guitar.

But Suzanne was not satisfied.  Her gaze never left an object of unknown form enveloped in green serge.  Alix noticed, laughed, rose, and, lifting the covering, said: 

“This is my harp, Suzanne; later I will play it for you.”

The second evening and those that followed, papa, despite Carlo’s representation and the magnificent moonlight, opposed the continuation of the journey by night; and it was not until the morning of the fifth day that we reached St. James.