I was thinking over my short interview with Aurore--congratulating
myself upon some expressions she had dropped--happy in the anticipation
that such encounters would recur frequently, now that I was able to be
abroad--when in the midst of my pleasant reverie the door of my
apartment became darkened. I looked up, and beheld the hated face of
Monsieur Dominique Gayarre.
It was his first visit since the morning after my arrival upon the
plantation. What could _he_ want with _me_?
I was not kept long in suspense, for my visitor, without even
apologising for his intrusion, opened his business abruptly and at once.
"Monsieur," began he, "I have made arrangements for your removal to the
hotel at Bringiers."
"You have?" said I, interrupting him in a tone as abrupt and something
more indignant than his own. "And who, sir, may I ask, has commissioned
_you_ to take this trouble?"
"Ah--oh!" stammered he, somewhat tamed down by his brusque reception, "I
beg pardon, Monsieur. Perhaps you are not aware that I am the agent--
the friend--in fact, the guardian of Mademoiselle Besancon--and--and--"
"Is it Mademoiselle Besancon's wish that I go to Bringiers?"
"Well--the truth is--not exactly her wish; but you see, my dear sir, it
is a delicate affair--your remaining here, now that you are almost quite
recovered, upon which I congratulate you--and--and--"
"Go on, sir!"
"Your remaining here any longer--under the circumstances--would be--you
can judge for yourself, sir--would be, in fact, a thing that would be
talked about in the neighbourhood--in fact, considered highly improper."
"Hold, Monsieur Gayarre! I am old enough not to require lessons in
etiquette from you, sir."
"I beg pardon, sir. I do not mean that but--I--you will observe--I, as
the lawful guardian of the young lady--"
"Enough, sir. I understand you perfectly. For _your purposes, whatever
they be_, you do not wish me to remain any longer on this plantation.
Your desire shall be gratified. I shall leave the place, though
certainly not with any intention of accommodating you. I shall go hence
this very evening."
The words upon which I had placed emphasis, startled the coward like a
galvanic shock. I saw him turn pale as they were uttered, and the
wrinkles deepened about his eyes. I had touched a chord, which he
deemed a secret one, and its music sounded harsh to him. Lawyer-like,
however, he commanded himself, and without taking notice of my
insinuation, replied in a tone of whining hypocrisy--
"My dear monsieur! I regret this necessity; but the fact is, you see--
the world--the busy, meddling world--"
"Spare your homilies, sir! Your business, I fancy, is ended; at all
events your company is no longer desired."
"Humph!" muttered he. "I regret you should take it in this way--I am
sorry--"
And with a string of similar incoherent phrases he made his exit.
I stepped up to the door and looked after, to see which way he would
take. He walked direct to the house! I saw him go in!
This visit and its object had taken me by surprise, though I had not
been without some anticipation of such an event. The conversation I had
overheard between him and the doctor rendered it probable that such
would be the result; though I hardly expected being obliged to change my
quarters so soon. For another week or two I had intended to stay where
I was. When quite recovered, I should have moved to the hotel of my own
accord.
I felt vexed, and for several reasons. It chagrined me to think that
this wretch possessed such a controlling influence; for I did not
believe that Mademoiselle Besancon had anything to do with my removal.
Quite the contrary. She had visited me but a few hours before, and not
a word had been said of the matter. Perhaps she might have thought of
it, and did not desire to mention it? But no. This could hardly be. I
noticed no change in her manner during the interview. The same
kindness--the same interest in my recovery--the same solicitude about
the little arrangements of my food and attendance, were shown by her up
to the last moment. She evidently contemplated no change so sudden as
that proposed by Gayarre. Reflection convinced me that the proposal had
been made without any previous communication with _her_.
What must be the influence of this man, that he dare thus step between
her and the rites of hospitality? It was a painful thought to me, to
see this fair creature in the power of such a villain.
But another thought was still more painful--the thought of parting with
Aurore. Though I did not fancy that parting was to be for ever. No!
Had I believed that, I should not have yielded so easily. I should have
put Monsieur Dominique to the necessity of a positive expulsion. Of
course, I had no apprehension that by removing to the village I should
be debarred from visiting the plantation as often as I felt inclined.
Had that been the condition, my reflections would have been painful
indeed.
After all, the change would signify little. I should return as a
visitor, and in that character be more independent than as a guest--more
free, perhaps, to approach the object of my love! I could come as often
as I pleased. The same opportunities of seeing her would still be open
to me. I wanted but one--one moment alone with Aurore--and then bliss
or blighted hopes!
But there were other considerations that troubled me at this moment.
How was I to live at the hotel? Would the proprietor believe in
promises, and wait until my letters, already sent off, could be
answered? Already I had been provided with suitable apparel,
mysteriously indeed. I awoke one morning and found it by my bedside. I
made no inquiry as to how it came there. That would be an
after-consideration; but with regard to money, how was that to be
obtained? Must I become _her_ debtor? Or am I to be under obligations
to Gayarre? Cruel dilemma!
At this juncture I thought of Reigart. His calm, kind face came up
before me.
"An alternative!" soliloquised I; "he will help me!"
The thought seemed to have summoned him; for at that moment the good
doctor entered the room, and became the confidant of my wishes.
I had not misjudged him. His purse lay open upon the table; and I
became his debtor for as much of its contents as I stood in need of.
"Very strange!" said he, "this desire of hurrying you off on the part of
Monsieur Gayarre. There is something more in it than solicitude for the
character of the lady. Something more: what can it all mean?"
The doctor said this partly in soliloquy, and as if searching his own
thoughts for an answer.
"I am almost a stranger to Mademoiselle Besancon," he continued, "else I
should deem it my duty to know more of this matter. But Monsieur
Gayarre is her guardian; and if he desire you to leave, it will perhaps
be wiser to do so. _She may not be her own mistress entirely_. Poor
thing! I fear there is debt at the bottom of the mystery; and if so,
she will be more a slave than any of her own people. Poor young lady!"
Reigart was right. My remaining longer might add to her embarrassments.
I felt satisfied of this.
"I am desirous to go at once, doctor."
"My barouche is at the gate, then. You can have a seat in it. I can
set you down at the hotel."
"Thanks, thanks! the very thing I should have asked of you, and I accept
your offer. I have but few preparations to make, and will be ready for
you in a moment."
"Shall I step over to the house, and prepare Mademoiselle for your
departure?"
"Be so kind. I believe Gayarre is now there?"
"No. I met him near the gate of his own plantation, returning home. I
think she is alone. I shall see her and return for you."
The doctor left me, and walked over to the house. He was absent but a
few minutes, when he returned to make his report. He was still further
perplexed at what he had learnt.
Mademoiselle had heard from Gayarre, just an hour before, that _I had
expressed my intention_ of removing to the hotel! She had been
surprised at this, as I had said nothing about it at our late interview.
She would not hear of it at first, but Gayarre had used _arguments_ to
convince her of the policy of such a step; and the doctor, on my part,
had also urged it. She had at length, though reluctantly, consented.
Such was the report of the doctor, who further informed me that she was
waiting to receive me.
Guided by Scipio, I made my way to the drawing-room. I found her
seated; but upon my entrance she rose, and came forward to meet me with
both hands extended. I saw that _she was in tears_!
"Is it true you intend leaving us, Monsieur?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle; I am now quite strong again. I have come to thank
you for your kind hospitality, and say adieu."
"Hospitality!--ah, Monsieur, you have reason to think it cold
hospitality since I permit you to leave us so soon. I would you had
remained; but--" Here she became embarrassed: "but--you are not to be a
stranger, although you go to the hotel. Bringiers is near; promise that
you will visit us often--in fact, every day?"