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