"Madame forgave her only last week when she lost half-a-dozen of Mademoiselle's handkerchiefs, that she had taken to wash; or said she lost them," he added pointedly.
"Oh, mamma!" interposed Cerise, but the Marquise checked her with a sign, and Bartoletti proceeded.
"One of her brothers is at the head of a gang of Maroons,[1] who infest the very mountains above our cane-*pieces, and another ran away to join him last week. They say at the Plantation we dare not punish any of the family, and I am pledged to make an example of the first that comes into my hands."
"Very well," said the Marquise, decidedly, returning his black book to her overseer, and observing to Cerise, who was by this time in tears, "A case, my dear, that it would be most injudicious to pardon. After all, the pain is not much, and the disgrace, you know, to these sort of people is nothing!"
- ↑ Runaway negroes who join in bands and live by plunder in the woods.
