Whatever may have been the result of Newton’s observations relative to slavery in the English colonies, his feelings of dislike insensibly wore away during his residence at Lieu Desire; there he was at least convinced that a slave might be perfectly happy.  It must be acknowledged that the French have invariably proved the kindest and most considerate of masters, and the state of bondage is much mitigated in the islands which appertain to that nation.  The reason is obvious:  in France, there is a bonhommie, a degree of equality, established between the different grades of society by universal politeness.  A French servant is familiar with his master at the same time that he is respectful:  and the master, in return, condescends to his inferior without forgetting their relative positions.  This runs through society in general:  and as no one can well be polite without some good-nature (for politeness, frivolous as it may appear, is a strong check upon those feelings of selfishness too apt to be indulged in), it leads to a general feeling of good-will towards others.  This has naturally been practised by Frenchmen wherever they may be; and the consequence is that the slaves are treated with more consideration, and, in return, have warmer feelings of attachment towards their owners than are to be found in colonies belonging to other nations.  Newton perceived and acknowledged this, and, comparing the condition of the people at Lieu Desire with that of most of the peasantry of Europe, was unwillingly obliged to confess that the former were in every respect the more fortunate and the more happy of the two.

One morning, soon after Newton had breakfasted with M. de Fontanges, and had been summoned to the boudoir, a letter was brought in.  It was from the governor to M. de Fontanges, stating that he had heard with great surprise that M. de Fontanges concealed an English prisoner in his house, and desiring that he might be immediately sent up to head-quarters.  That there might be no delay or refusal, a corporal, accompanied by two file of men, brought down the intimation to the plantation.

Newton was in the very middle of a long story, Madame de Fontanges on the ottoman, and her attendants collected round her, seated on the floor—­even Cupidon had advanced from his corner to within half-distance, his mouth and eyes wide open, when M. de Fontanges entered the boudoir, with anxiety and chagrin expressed in his countenance.

“Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, mon ami?” said Madame de Fontanges, rising hastily, and running up to her husband.

M. de Fontanges answered by putting the governor’s letter into his wife’s hands.

“Ah! les barbares!” cried Madame de Fontanges; “est-il possible?  Pauvre Monsieur Nutong!  On l’amene au cachot.”

“Au cachot!” cried all the coloured girls at a breath and bursting into tears—­“Oh, ciel!”