short, considered a "nobody." A
widow she might be--a very young widow--but even that did not seem to me
probable. She had not the "cut" of a widow in my eyes, and there was
not the semblance of a "weed" either about her dress or her looks. The
Captain had styled her _Madame_, but he was evidently unacquainted with
her, and also with the French idiom. In a doubtful case such as this,
it should have been "Mademoiselle."

Inexperienced as I was at the time--"green," as the Americans have it--I
was not without some curiosity in regard to women, especially when these
chanced to be beautiful. My curiosity in the present case had been
stimulated by several circumstances. First, by the attractive
loveliness of the lady herself; second, by the style of her conversation
and the facts it had revealed; third, by the circumstance that the lady
was, or I fancied her to be, a "Creole."

I had as yet had but little intercourse with people of this peculiar
race, and was somewhat curious to know more about them. I had found
them by no means ready to open their doors to the Saxon stranger--
especially the old "Creole _noblesse_," who even to this hour regard
their Anglo-American fellow-citizens somewhat in the light of invaders
and usurpers! This feeling was at one time deeply rooted. With time,
however, it is dying out.

A fourth spur to my curiosity was found in the fact, that the lady in
passing had eyed me with a glance of more than ordinary inquisitiveness.
Do not be too hasty in blaming me for this declaration. Hear me first.
I did not for a moment fancy that that glance was one of admiration. I
had no such thoughts. I was too young at the time to flatter myself
with such fancies. Besides, at that precise moment I was far from being
"in my zenith." With scarce five dollars in my purse, I felt rather
forlorn; and how could I have fancied that a brilliant beauty such as
she--a star of first magnitude--a rich proprietress--the owner of a
plantation, a steward, and a host of slaves--would condescend to look
admiringly on such a friendless wretch as I?

In truth, I did not flatter myself with such thoughts. I supposed that
it was simple curiosity on her part--and no more. She saw that I was
not of her own race. My complexion--the colour of my eyes--the cut of
my garments--perhaps something _gauche_ in my manner--told her I was a
stranger to the soil, and that had excited her interest for a passing
moment. A mere e