It was a field of sugar-cane. The canes were of that species known as
"ratoons"--suckers from old roots--and the thick bunches at their bases,
as well as the tall columns, enabled us to pass among them unobserved.
Even had it been day, we might have approached the house unseen.
We soon reached the garden-paling. Here we stopped to reconnoitre the
ground. A short survey was sufficient. We saw the very place where we
could approach and conceal ourselves.
The house had an antique weather-beaten look--not without some
pretensions to grandeur. It was a wooden building, two stories in
height, with gable roofs, and large windows--all of which had Venetian
shutters that opened to the outside. Both walls and window-shutters had
once been painted, but the paint was old and rusty; and the colour of
the Venetians, once green, could hardly be distinguished from the grey
wood-work of the walls. All round the house ran an open gallery or
verandah, raised some three or four feet from the ground. Upon this
gallery the windows and doors opened, and a paling or guard-rail
encompassed the whole. Opposite the doors, a stairway of half-a-dozen
steps led up; but at all other parts the space underneath was open in
front, so that, by stooping a little, one might get under the floor of
the gallery.
By crawling close up in front of the verandah, and looking through the
rails, we should be able to command a full view of all the windows in
the house;--and in case of alarm, we could conceal ourselves in the dark
cavity underneath. We should be safe there, unless scented by the dogs.
Our plan was matured in whispers. It was not much of a plan. We were
to advance to the edge of the verandah, peep through the windows until
we could discover the apartment of Aurore; then do our best to
communicate with her, and get her out. Our success depended greatly
upon accident or good fortune.
Before we could make a move forward, fortune seemed as though she was
going to favour us. In one of the windows, directly before our face, a
figure appeared. A glance told us it was the Quadroon!
The window, as before stated, reached down to the floor of the verandah;
and as the figure appeared behind the glass, we could see it from head
to foot. The Madras kerchief on the head, the gracefully undulating
figure, outlined upon the background of the lighted room, left no doubt
upon our minds as to who it was.
"'Tis Aurore!" whispered my companion.
How could _he_ tell? Did he know her? All! I remembered--he had seen
her that morning in the Rotundo.
"It is she!" I replied, my beating heart scarce allowing me to make
utterance.
The window was curtained, but she had raised the curtain in one hand,
and was looking out. There was that in her attitude that betokened
earnestness. She appeared as if trying to penetrate the gloom. Even in
the distance I could perceive this, and my heart bounded with joy. She
had understood my note. She was looking for me!
D'Hauteville thought so as well. Our prospects were brightening. If
she guessed our design, our task would be easier.
She remained but a few moments by the window. She turned away and the
curtain dropped into its place; but before it had screened the view, the
dark shadow of a man fell against the back wall of the room. Gayarre,
no doubt!
I could hold back no longer; but climbing over the garden-fence, I crept
forward, followed by D'Hauteville.
In a few seconds both of us had gained the desired position--directly in
front of the window, from which we were now separated only by the
wood-work of the verandah. Standing half-bent our eyes were on a level
with the floor of the room. The curtain had not fallen properly into
its place. A single pane of the glass remained unscreened, and through
this we could see nearly the whole interior of the apartment. Our ears,
too, were at the proper elevation to catch every sound; and persons
conversing within the room we could hear distinctly.
We were right in our conjecture. It was Aurore we had seen. Gayarre
was the other occupant of the room.
I shall not paint that scene. I shall not repeat the words to which we
listened. I shall not detail the speeches of that mean villain--at
first fulsome and flattering--then coarse, bold, and brutal; until at
length, failing to effect his purpose by entreaties, he had recourse to
threats.
D'Hauteville held me back, begging me in earnest whispers to be patient.
Once or twice I had almost determined to spring forward, dash aside the
sash, and strike the ruffian to the floor. Thanks to the prudent
interference of my companion, I restrained myself.
The scene ended by Gayarre going out of the room indignant, but somewhat
crest-fallen. The bold, upright bearing of the Quadroon--whose
strength, at least, equalled that of her puny assailant--had evidently
intimidated him for the moment, else he might have resorted to personal
violence.
His threats, however, as he took his departure; left no doubt of his
intention soon to renew his brutal assault. He felt certain of his
victim--she was his slave, and must yield. He had ample time and
opportunity. He need not at once proceed to extremes. He could wait
until his valour, somewhat cowed, should return again, and imbue him
with a fresh impulse.
The disappearance of Gayarre gave us an opportunity to make our presence
known to Aurore. I was about to climb up to the verandah and tap on the
glass; but my companion prevented me from doing so.
"It is not necessary," he whispered; "she certainly knows you will be
here. Leave it to _her_. She will return to the window presently.
Patience, Monsieur! a false step will ruin all. Remember the dogs!"
There was prudence in these counsels, and I gave way to them. A few
minutes would decide; and we both crouched close, and watched the
movements of the Quadroon.
The apartment in which she was attracted our notice. It was not the
drawing-room of the house, nor yet a bedroom. It was a sort of library
or studio--as shelves filled with books, and a table, covered with
papers and writing-materials, testified. It was, no doubt, the office
of the avocat, in which he was accustomed to do his writing.
Why was Aurore in that room? Such a question occurred to us; but we had
little time to dwell upon it. My companion suggested that as they had
just arrived, she may have been placed there while an apartment was
being prepared for her. The voices of servants overhead, and the noise
of furniture being moved over the floor, was what led him to make this
suggestion; it was just as if a room was being set in order.
This led me into a new train of reflection. She might be suddenly
removed from the library, and taken up-stairs. It would then be more
difficult to communicate with her. It would be better to make the
attempt at once.
Contrary to the wish of D'Hauteville, I was about to advance forward to
the window, when the movements of Aurore herself caused me to hesitate.
The door through which Gayarre had just made his exit was visible from
where we stood. I saw the Quadroon approach this with silent tread, as
if meditating some design. Placing her hand upon the key, she turned it
in the lock, so that the door was thus bolted inside. With what design
had she doing this?
It occurred to us that she was about to make her escape out by the
window, and that she had fastened the door for the purpose of delaying
pursuit. If so, it would be better for us to remain quiet, and leave
her to complete the design. It would be time enough to warn her of our
presence when she should reach the window. This was D'Hauteville's
advice.
In one corner of the room stood a large mahogany desk, and over its head
was ranged a screen of box-shelves--of the kind known as "pigeon-holes."
These were filled with papers and parchments--no doubt, wills, deeds,
and other documents relating to the business of the lawyer.
To my astonishment I saw the Quadroon, as soon as she had secured the
door, hastily approach this desk, and stand directly in front of it--her
eyes eagerly bent upon the shelves, as though she was in search of some
document!
Such was in reality the case, for she now stretched forth her hand, drew
a bundle of folded papers from the box, and after resting her eyes upon
them for a moment, suddenly concealed them in the bosom of her dress!
"Heavens!" I mentally ejaculated, "what can it mean?"
I had no time to give way to conjectures--for in a second's time Aurore
had glided across the floor, and was standing in the window.
As she raised the curtain, the light streamed full on the faces of
myself and my companion, and at the first glance she saw us. A slight
exclamation escaped her, but it was of joy, not surprise; and she
suddenly checked herself.
The ejaculation was not loud enough to be heard across the room. The
sash opened noiselessly--with silent tread the verandah was crossed--and
in another moment my betrothed was in my arms! I lifted her over the
balustrade, and we passed hastily along the walks of the garden.
The outer field was reached without any alarm having been given; and,
directing ourselves between the rows of the canes, we speeded on towards
the woods, that loomed up like a dark wall in the distance.