‘Well, girls, he shall have my protection, though those cursed Frenchmen have knocked down our house, and left us only the canopy of heaven for a roof; besides, we must get out of this place before night, or some hungry lion may possibly intrude. So come, sit down; I do not think there is the slightest chance of the enemy penetrating further than the town, so you are safe enough. I see clearly you are, or were, in a better station of life than your dress denotes. You will have time enough to tell me all about yourself. I have an intelligent negro watching the movements of the French; when he comes back and reports that they have returned on board their ship, we will think of moving.’ So we all seated ourselves on the dried grass in heaps, gathered by the two black attendants. These two natives were far from ugly, though certainly not provided with a superfluity of garments. “‘Now girls,’ said the stranger, ‘let us have some refreshment and wine,’ and at once a large hamper was unpacked. The stranger’s two daughters, losing their timidity, laughingly displayed their stores, and most kindly invited me to share their repast. We were in a nice cool, shady place, well protected from the sun’s rays, otherwise the heat would have been oppressive. Some roast fowls and bread, and fruit, and good wine, made an excellent repast, and, before it was finished, I had become quite friendly and familiar with the two charming sisters and their kind-hearted father. The young ladies were attired in loose cotton dresses, simply drawn in at the waist, and wore rice straw hats. Their father was a man rather above the middle size, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with very handsome, pleasing features, dark hair and beard, and in years about forty-five. His two daughters were, as he afterwards told me, seventeen and fifteen. The eldest was a lovely girl, and so fair, I judged she could not have been long exposed to a southern sun. The negro girls were very young, with slender, fine forms, and dazzling white teeth; of their dress, the less said the better—it was the attire of the country, and no one thought anything about it.” A summons on deck, a large ship being in sight, put an end to Julian Arden’s story for that night, and all went upon deck. CHAPTER XXV. On gaining the deck, all eyes were turned in the direction of the strange ship. It was a clear, fine night, and the wind and sea moderate. “Ah, that’s a merchant ship,” said Captain O’Loughlin, looking through his night-glass. “I am sure of it. What has brought her so close in with the French coast? It’s a great and unnecessary risk.”