Michel, his son from a prior marriage to a white Frenchwoman, is beaten bloody by a crowd of cheering men waving guns.
With a bit of prompting from him, I do catch hints of “a Frenchwoman in cheap jasmine perfume, smoking a cigarette.”
Anatole answered the Frenchwoman very readily and, looking at her with a smile, talked to her about her native land.
"That Frenchwoman was around the course with her husband, yesterday," she urged.
Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman nodded slowly.
No—a Frenchwoman, but she had been married to an English nobleman.
"We must marry our daughters as soon as possible," said a Frenchwoman to an easy-going American husband.
"I couldn't begin talking about him in the presence of that Frenchwoman," thought Natasha.
The first one who deserves mention was, though a Queen of England, a Frenchwoman by birth.
Besides the baby, by fever, and a lively young Frenchwoman left to be hanged.