"If he dare," rejoined Gayarre in a tone of bravado; "if he dare hint at
such a thing to Mademoiselle--ay, or _even to you_, Aurore--I shall make
the place too hot for him. He shall visit here no more, the naked
adventurer! On that I am resolved."
"Oh, Monsieur Gayarre! I'm sure that would vex Mademoiselle very much.
Remember! he saved her life. She is full of gratitude to him. She
continually talks of it, and it would grieve her if Monsieur Edouard was
to come no more. I am sure it would grieve her."
There was an earnestness, a half-entreaty, in the tone of the speaker
that sounded pleasant to my ears. It suggested the idea that _she, too,
might be grieved_ if Monsieur Edouard were to come no more.
A like thought seemed to occur to Gayarre, upon whom, however, it made a
very different sort of impression. There was irony mixed with anger in
his reply, which was half interrogative.
"Perhaps it would grieve _some one else_? Perhaps you? All, indeed!
Is it so? You love him? _Sacr-r-r-r_!"
There was a hissing emphasis upon the concluding word, that expressed
anger and pain,--the pain of bitter jealousy.
"Oh monsieur!" replied the quadroon, "how can you speak thus? _I_ love!
I,--a poor slave! Alas! alas!"
Neither the tone nor substance of this speech exactly pleased me. I
felt a hope, however, that it was but one of the little stratagems of
love: a species of deceit I could easily pardon. It seemed to produce a
pleasant effect on Gayarre, for all at once his voice changed to a
lighter and gayer tone.
"You a _slave_, beautiful Aurore! No, in my eyes you are a _queen_,
Aurore. Slave! It is your fault if you remain so. You know who has
the power to make you free: ay, and the will too,--the will,--Aurore!"
"Please not to talk thus, Monsieur Dominique! I have said before I
cannot listen to such speech. I repeat I cannot, and _will_ not!"
The firm tone was grateful to my ears.
"Nay, lovely Aurore!" replied Gayarre, entreatingly, "don't be angry
with me! I cannot help it. I cannot help thinking of your welfare.
You _shall_ be free;--no longer the slave of a capricious mistress--"
"Monsieur Gayarre!" exclaimed the quadroon, interrupting him, "speak not
so of Mademoiselle! You wrong her, Monsieur. She is not capricious.
What if she heard--"
"_Peste_!" cried Gayarre, interrupting in his turn, and again assuming
his tone of bravado. "What care I if she did? Think you I trouble my
head about her? The world thinks so! ha! ha! ha! Let them!--the fools!
ha! ha! One day they may find it different! ha! ha! They think my
visits here are on _her_ account! ha! ha! ha! No, Aurore,--lovely
Aurore! it is not Mademoiselle I come to see, but _you_,--you, Aurore,--
whom I _love_,--ay, love with all--"
"Monsieur Dominique! I repeat--"
"Dearest Aurore! say you will but love me; say but the word! Oh, speak
it! you shall be no longer a slave,--you shall be free as your mistress
is;--you shall have everything,--every pleasure,--dresses, jewels, at
will; my house shall be under your control,--you shall command in it,
_as if you were my wife_."
"Enough, Monsieur! enough! Your insult--I hear no more!"
The voice was firm and indignant. Hurrah!
"Nay, dearest, loveliest Aurore! do not go yet,--hear me--"
"I hear no more, Sir,--Mademoiselle shall know--"
"A word, a word! one kiss, Aurore! on my knees, I beg--"
I heard the knocking of a pair of knees on the floor, followed by a
struggling sound, and loud angry exclamations on the part of Aurore.
This I considered to be my cue, and three steps brought me within the
room, and within as many feet of the kneeling gallant. The wretch was
actually on his "marrow-bones," holding the girl by the wrist, and
endeavouring to draw her towards him. She, on the contrary, was
exerting all her women's strength to get away; which, not being so
inconsiderable, resulted in the ludicrous spectacle of the kneeling
suitor being dragged somewhat rapidly across the carpet!
His back was toward me as I entered, and the first intimation he had of
my presence was a boisterous laugh, which for the life of me I could not
restrain. It lasted until long after he had released his captive, and
gathered his limbs into an upright position; and, indeed, so loud did it
sound in my own ears, that I did not hear the threats of vengeance he
was muttering in return.
"What business have _you_ here, Sir?" was his first intelligible
question.
"I need not ask the same of you, Monsieur Dominique Gayarre. _Your_
business I can tell well enough ha! ha! ha!"
"I ask you, Sir," he repeated, in a still angrier tone, "what's your
business here?"
"I did not come here on _business_, Monsieur," said I, still keeping up
the tone of levity. "I did not come here on business, _any more than
yourself_."
The emphasis on the last words seemed to render him furious.
"The sooner you go the better, then," he shouted, with a bullying frown.
"For whom?" I inquired.
"For yourself, Sir," was the reply.