a jealous lover, and I cry you
mercy for the act.

I listened. With an effort I stifled the feverish throbbings of my
heart, and listened.

And I heard every word that from that moment was said. The voices had
become louder, or rather the speakers had approached nearer. They were
but a few feet from the window! Gayarre was speaking.

"And does this young fellow dare to make love to your mistress?"

"Monsieur Dominique, how should I know? I am sure I never saw aught of
the kind. He is very modest, and so Mademoiselle thinks him. I never
knew him to speak one word of love,--not he."

I fancied I heard a sigh.

"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