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 p