"Aurore?" I interrogated with an effort.
"'Rore gone too, mass'r;--she gone long wi' Missa 'Genie."
"Aurore gone!"
"Yes, mass'r, she gone; daat's de troof."
I was astounded by the information, as well as puzzled by this
mysterious departure. Eugenie gone and in the night! Aurore gone with
her! What could it mean? Whither had they gone?
My reiterated appeal to the black threw no light upon the subject. He
was ignorant of all their movements,--ignorant of everything but what
related to the negro quarter. He had heard that himself, his wife, his
daughter,--"the leetle Chloe,"--with all their fellow-slaves, were to be
carried down to the city, and to be sold in the slave-market by auction.
They were to be taken the following day. They were already advertised.
That was all he knew. No, not all,--one other piece of information he
had in store for me. It was authentic: he had heard the "white folks"
talk of it to one another:--Larkin, Gayarre, and a "negro-trader," who
was to be concerned in this sale. It regarded the quadroon. _She was
to be sold among the rest_!
The blood boiled in my veins as the black imparted this information. It
was authentic. Scipio's statement of what he had heard, minutely
detailed, bore the internal evidence of authenticity. I could not doubt
the report. I felt the conviction that it was true.
The plantation Besancon had no more attractions. I had no longer any
business at Bringiers. New Orleans was now the scene of action for me!
With a kind word to Scipio, I wheeled my horse and galloped away from
the gate. The fiery animal caught my excitement, and sprang wildly
along the road. It required all his buoyant spirit to keep pace with
the quick dancing of my nerves.
In a few minutes I had consigned him to his groom; and, climbing to my
chamber, commenced preparing for my departure.