Had she been blind, lame, hump-backed, red-haired, a vixen, or a fury, there would yet, doubtless, have been hundreds ready to kneel before the charm of her father's wealth, and to declare the heiress an angel. But when it is remembered that her future fortune was only exceeded by her glorious beauty, it will be thought little marvel that she had a host of admirers ever ready to flock round her at her father's soirees, to attend her in her drives, to haunt her box at the opera or the theatre, and to talk of her beauty in all the coffee-houses of New Orleans. Our readers must remember that there is much in this chief city of Louisiana, which resembles rather a French than an English town. The inhabitants are many of them of French extraction. The coffee-houses--or cafes as they are called--resemble those of Paris; the gambling-houses and theatres are Parisian in arrangements, and the young men of the upper classes have much of the polish of our Gallic neighbors, mingled with not a little of their frivolity. Among the many suitors for the hand of Camillia Moraquitos was no less a person than Augustus Horton. But the young planter did not love the Spanish beauty; there was something terribly repellent in the haughty spirit of Camillia to those whom she did not love, and Augustus Horton's pride was wounded by the thought that his attentions could possibly be disagreeable to any woman whom he condescended to honor by a preference. It was not love, therefore, which made him so constant in his attendance on the young beauty. No; mercenary motives, mingled with the resolute obstinacy of wounded pride. He would not confess, even to himself, that there was any fear of his failing to attain the prize. He despised the young fops who whispered soft speeches and high-flown compliments into the unheeding ear of the disdainful girl, and, thinking these his only rivals, dreamt not of defeat. In all the planter's visits to the Villa Moraquitos he had never yet encountered Paul Lisimon. The young Mexican scrupulously held himself aloof from the rich and frivolous guests who assembled in Don Juan's splendid mansion. In vain did the Spaniard bid his protege to join in the festivities at the villa. In vain did Camillia reproach her lover with coldness and neglect, Paul was inexorable. "No, Camillia," he said, when the young girl remonstrated with him, "I should hear your father's guests ask each other in the superb disdain of their creole insolence, 'Who is this Mr. Lisimon?' I wait the time, Camillia, when my own exertions shall have made this simple and now unknown name of Lisimon familiar to every citizen in New Orleans."