as a long time before two aces came together. It seemed as if the
very importance of the stakes called for more than the usual time to
decide the bet.

It was decided at length. The ring followed the watch.

I caught D'Hauteville by the arm, and drew him away from the table.
This time he followed me unresistingly--as he had nothing more to lay.

"What matters it?" said he, with a gay air as we passed together out of
the saloon. "Ah! yes," he continued, changing his tone, "ah, yes, it
does matter! It matters to _you_, and _Aurore_!"

CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT.

MY FORLORN HOPE.

It was pleasant escaping from that hot hell into the cool night air--
into the soft light of a Southern moon. It would have been pleasant
under other circumstances; but then the sweetest clime and loveliest
scene would have made no impression upon me.

My companion seemed to share my bitterness of soul. His words of
consolation were not without their influence; I knew they were the
expressions of a real sympathy. His acts had already proved it.

It was, indeed, a lovely night. The white moon rode buoyantly through
fleecy clouds, that thinly dappled the azure sky of Louisiana, and a
soft breeze played through the now silent streets. A lovely night--too
sweet and balmy. My spirit would have preferred a storm. Oh! for black
clouds, red lightning, and thunder rolling and crashing through the sky.
Oh! for the whistling wind, and the quick pattering of the rain-drops.
Oh! for a hurricane without, consonant to the storm that was raging
within me!

It was but a few steps to the hotel; but we did not stop there. We
could think better in the open air, and converse as well. Sleep had no
charms for me, and my companion seemed to share my impulses; so passing
once more from among the houses, we went on towards the Swamp, caring
not whither we went.

We walked side by side for some time without exchanging speech. Our
thoughts were running upon the same theme,--the business of to-morrow.
To-morrow no longer, for the tolling of the great cathedral clock had
just announced the hour of midnight. In twelve hours more the _vente de
l'encan_ would commence--in twelve hours more they would be bidding, for
my betrothed!

Our steps were towards the "Shell Road," and soon our feet crunched upon
the fragments of unios and bivalves that strewed the path. Here was a
scene more in unison with our thoughts. Above and around waved the dark
solemn c