Uncle Philip, though he scorned to acknowledge it, was not in reality destitute of all comprehension of the French language, having picked up some little acquaintance with it from having, in the course of his wanderings, been at places where nothing else was spoken; and though determined on being displeased, he was amused, in spite of himself, at some of the tirades of Madame Franchimeau. Understanding that Monsieur Philippe (as much to his annoyance she called him) had just returned from the West Indies, she began to talk of Cape François, and the insurrection of the blacks, in which, she said, she had lost her first husband, Monsieur Mascaron. "By this terrible blow," said she, "I was _parfaitement abimé_,[11] and I refused all consolation till it was my felicity to inspire Monsieur Franchimeau with sentiments the most profound. But my heart will for ever preserve a tender recollection of my well-beloved Alphonse. Ah! my Alphonse--his manners were adorable. However, my regards are great for _mon ami_[12] Monsieur Franchimeau. It is true, he is _un pen brusque--c'est son caractère_.[13] But his heart is of a goodness that is really inconceivable. He performs the most charming actions, and with a generosity that is heroic. _Ah! mon ami_--you hear me speak of you--but permit me the sad consolation of shedding yet a few tears for my respectable Alphonse." [Footnote 11: Perfectly destroyed, plunged into an abyss of despair.] [Footnote 12: My friend, my dear]. [Footnote 13: A little blunt--a little rough. It is his character.] Madame Franchimeau then entered into an animated detail of the death of her first husband, who was killed before her eyes by the negroes; and she dwelt upon every horrid particular, till she had worked herself into a passion of tears. Just then, Fanny Clavering (who had for that purpose been sent up to the house by her mother) arrived with a servant carrying a waiter of pine-apples, sugar and Madeira. Madame Franchimeau stopped in the midst of her tears, and exclaimed--"_Ah! des ananas--mon ami (to her husband)--maman--papa--voyez--voyez--des ananas._[14] Ah! my poorest Alphonse, great was his love for these--what you call them--apple de pine. He was just paring his apple de pine, when the detestable negroes rushed in and overset the table. _Ah! quel scène--une véritable tragédie!_[15] _Pardonnez_, Madame Colavering, I prefer a slice from the largest part of the fruit.--Ah! my amiable Alphonse--his blood flew all over my robe, which was of spotted Japan muslin. I wore that day a long sash of a broad ribbon of the colour of Aurore, fringed at both of its ends. When I was running away, he grasped it so hard that it came untied, and I left it in his hand.--May I beg the favour of some more sugar?--_Mon ami_, you always prefer the pine-apple bathed in Champagne." [Footnote 14: "Ah! pine-apples--my dear--(to her husband)--mamma--papa--see--see--pine-apples!"] [Footnote 15: Ah! what a scene--a real tragedy!]