The furniture is of various styles and shapes and of French, English and American make.

The kitchen, larder, etc., are in adjoining cells in rear of the Beehive.
In the afternoon, just as I issue from my cell with the firm intention of "obtaining an audience" of the Count d'Artigas, I catch sight of him coming along the shore of the lagoon towards the hive.

Either he does not see me, or wishes to avoid me, for he quickens his steps and I am unable to catch him.
"Well, he will have to receive me, anyhow!" I mutter to myself.
I hurry up to the door through which he has just disappeared and which has closed behind him.
It is guarded by a gigantic, dark-skinned Malay, who orders me away in no amiable tone of voice.
I decline to comply with his injunction, and repeat to him twice the following request in my very best English: "Tell the Count d'Artigas that I desire to be received immediately." I might just as well have addressed myself to the surrounding rock.
This savage, no doubt, does not understand a word of English, for he scowls at me and orders me away again with a menacing cry.
I have a good mind to attempt to force the door and shout so that the Count d'Artigas cannot fail to hear me, but in all probability I shall only succeed in rousing the wrath of the Malay, who appears to be endowed with herculean strength.

I therefore judge discretion to be the better part of valor, and put off the explanation that is owing to me--and which, sooner or later, I will have--to a more propitious occasion.
I meander off in front of the Beehive towards the east, and my thoughts revert to Thomas Roch.

I am surprised that I have not seen him yet.