friends were there except Tréville de Saint Julien, and Madame Tonton gave
her smiles and sweet looks to Neville, who never left her a moment. Oh,
how I regretted that my father was not with us! He had gone to Opelousas.
He had bought several plantations in St. Martin parish, and in a region
called Fausse Pointe, and in another known as the Côte Gelée.

The days that followed were equally fête days--a dinner here, a dance
there, and everywhere the most gracious reception. At length came the day
for us to meet at La Fontaine--a real spring near St. Martinville,
belonging to Neville Déclouet's uncle. About five in the afternoon we
gathered on the bank of the bayou. We never saw Tonton twice in the same
dress. To-day she was all in blue. Suddenly the sound of distant music,
and an open flat--not like our boat--approached, arched over with green
branches and flowers. Benches stood about, and in the middle the orchestra
played. In the prow stood the captain [Neville Déclouet], and during the
moments of the journey the music was mingled with the laughter and songs
of our joyous company. About 7 o'clock all the trees about La Fontaine
were illuminated, and Neville led us to a floored place encircled by
magnolia trees in bloom and by garlands running from tree to tree and
mingling their perfume with the languishing odor of the magnolias. Only
heaven can tell how Neville was praised and thanked.

I felt sure that Tonton's good taste had directed the details. There was
something singular in this young woman. Without education save what she
had taught herself, Tonton spoke with remarkable correctness, and found
means to amuse every one. Her letters were curious to see, not a single
word correctly spelled; yet her style was charming, and I cannot express
the pleasure they gave me, for during more than a year I received them by
every opportunity that presented itself.