I slept for perhaps an hour soundly. Then something awoke me, and I lay
for some moments only half sensible to outward impressions.
Pleasant impressions they were. Sweet perfumes floated around me; and I
could distinguish a soft, silky rustling, such as betokens the presence
of well-dressed women.
"He wakes, ma'amselle!" half whispered a sweet voice.
My eyes, now open, rested upon the speaker. For some moments I thought
it was but the continuation of my dream. There was the dream-face, the
black profuse hair, the brilliant orbs, the arching brows, the small,
curving lips, the damask cheek--all before me!
"Is it a dream? No--she breathes; she moves; she speaks!"
"See! ma'amselle--he looks at us! Surely he is awake!"
"It is no dream, then--no vision; it is she--it is Aurore!"
Up to this moment I was still but half conscious. The thought had
passed from my lips; but, perhaps, only the last phrase was uttered loud
enough to be heard. An ejaculation that followed fully awoke me, and I
now saw two female forms close by the side of my couch. They stood
regarding each other with looks of surprise. One was Eugenie; beyond
doubt the other was Aurore!
"Your name!" said the astonished mistress.
"My name!" repeated the equally astonished slave.
"But how?--he knows your name--how?"
"I cannot tell, ma'amselle."
"Have you been here before?"
"No; not till this moment."
"'Tis very strange!" said the young lady, turning towards me with an
inquiring glance.
I was now awake, and in full possession of my senses--enough to perceive
that I had been talking too loud. My knowledge of the quadroon's name
would require an explanation, and for the life of me I knew not what to
say. To tell what I had been thinking--to account for the expressions I
had uttered--would have placed me in a very absurd position; and yet to
maintain silence might leave Ma'amselle Besancon busy with some strange
thoughts. Something must be said--a little deceit was absolutely
necessary.
In hopes she would speak first, and, perchance, give me a key to what I
should say, I remained for some moments without opening my lips. I
pretended to feel pain from my wound, and turned uneasily on the bed.
She seemed not to notice this, but remained in her attitude of surprise,
simply repeating the words--
"'Tis very strange he should know your name!"
My imprudent speech had made an impression. I could remain silent no
longer; and, turning my face once more, I pretended now for the first
time to be aware of Mademoiselle's presence, at the same time offering
my congratulations, and expressing my joy at seeing her.