As I came opposite the house I saw Scipio by the gate. He was just
closing it after the carriage.
"Oh!" thought I, "I may as well be sure as to whom I am galloping
after."
With this idea I inclined my horse's head a little, and drew up in front
of Scipio.
"Gollies! how young mass'r ride! Ef he don't do daat business jes up to
de hub! Daat 'im do. Wugh!"
Without taking notice of his complimentary speech, I inquired hastily if
Mademoiselle was at home.
"No, mass'r, she jes dis moment gone out--she drive to Mass'r Marigny."
"Alone?"
"Ye, mass'r."
"Of course Aurore is with her?"
"No, mass'r; she gone out by harseff. 'Rore, she 'tay at home."
If the negro had been observant he might have noticed the effect of this
announcement upon me, for I am sure it must have been sufficiently
apparent. I felt it in the instant upheaving of my heart, and the
flushing that suddenly fevered my cheeks.
"Aurore at home, and alone!"
It was the first time during all the course of my wooing that such a
"chance" had offered; and I almost gave expression to my agreeable
surprise.
Fortunately I did not; for even the faithful Scipio was not to be
trusted with such a secret.
With an effort I collected myself, and tamed down my horse, now chafing
to continue his gallop. In doing so his head was turned in the
direction of the village. Scipio thought I was going to ride back.
"Sure mass'r not go till he rest a bit? Missa 'Genie not home, but dar
am 'Rore. 'Rore get mass'r glass ob claret; Ole Zip make um sangaree.
Day berry, berry hot. Wugh!"
"You are about right, Scipio," I replied, pretending to yield to his
persuasion. "Take my horse round to the stable. I shall rest a few
minutes."
I dismounted, and, passing the bridle to Scipio, stepped inside the
gate.
It was about a hundred paces to the house, by the direct walk that led
from the gate to the front door. But there were two other paths, that
wound around the sides of the shrubbery, through copses of low trees--
laurels, myrtles, and oranges. A person approaching by either of these
could not be seen from the house until close to the very windows. From
each of these paths the low verandah could be reached without going by
the front. There were steps leading into it--into the interior of the
house as well--for the windows that fronted upon the verandah were,
after the Creole fashion, glass folding-doors, that opened to the
bottom, so that the floors of the rooms and verandah-platform were upon
the same level.
On passing through the gate, I turned into one of these side-paths (for
certain reasons giving it the preference), and walked silently on
towards the house.
I had taken the longer way, and advanced slowly for the purpose of
composing myself. I could hear the beating of my own heart, and feel
its quick nervous throbs, quicker than my steps, as I approached the
long-desired interview. I believe I should have been more collected in
going up to the muzzle of an antagonist's pistol!
The long yearning for such an opportunity--the well-known difficulty of
obtaining it--the anticipation of that sweetest pleasure on earth--the
pleasure of being alone with her I loved--all blended in my thoughts.
No wonder they were wild and somewhat bewildered.
I should now meet Aurore face to face alone, with but Love's god as a
witness. I should speak unrestrainedly and free. I should hear _her_
voice, listen to the soft confession that she loved me. I should fold
her in my arms--against my bosom! I should drink love from her swimming
eyes, taste it on her crimson cheek, her coral lips! Oh, I should speak
love, and hear it spoken! I should listen to its delirious ravings!
A heaven of happiness was before me. No wonder my thoughts were wild--
no wonder I vainly strove to calm them.
I reached the house, and mounted the two or three steps that led up into
the verandah. The latter was carpeted with a mat of sea-grass, and my
_chaussure_ was light, so that my tread was as silent as that of a girl.
It could scarce have been heard within the chamber whose windows I was
passing.
I proceeded on toward the drawing-room, which opened to the front by two
of the large door-windows already mentioned. I turned the angle, and
the next moment would have passed the first of these windows, had a
sound not reached me that caused me to arrest my steps. The sound was a
voice that came from the drawing-room, whose windows stood open. I
listened--it was the voice of Aurore!
"In conversation with some one! with whom? Perhaps little Chloe? her
mother? some one of the domestics?"