"Yet, the Commandant of a military station and the Governor of a Colony."

"The station is a penitentiary; the colony for liberes, ticket-of-leave
men, and outcast Paris; with a sprinkling of gentlemen and officers dying
of boredom. No, my friend, we French are not colonists. We emigrate,
we do not colonise. This is no colony. We do no good here."

"You forget the nickel mines."

"Quarries for the convicts and for political prisoners of the lowest
class."

"The plantations?"

"Ah, there I crave your pardon. You are a planter, but you are English.
M. Wyndham is a planter and an owner of mines, but he is English. The
man who has done best financially in New Caledonia is an Englishman.
You, and a few others like you, French and English, are the only colony
I have. I do not rule you; you help me to rule."

"We?"

"By being on the side of justice and public morality; by dining with me,
though all too seldom; by giving me a quiet hour now and then beneath
your vines and fig-trees; and so making this uniform less burdensome to
carry. No, no, monsieur, I know you are about to say something very
gracious: but no, you shall pay your compliments to the ladies."

As they journeyed to the morning-room Hugh Tryon said: "Does M. Laflamme
still come to paint Miss Wyndham?"