never describe. It felt as if a poisoned arrow had pierced to its very
core, and there remained fixed and rankling. I felt faint and sick. I
could have fallen to the ground.

She has taken something from her bosom. She is handing it to him! A
love-token--a _gage d'amour_!

No. I am in error. It is the parchment--the paper taken from the desk
of the avocat. What does it mean? What mystery is this? Oh! I shall
demand a full explanation from both of you. I shall--patience, heart!--
patience!

D'Hauteville has taken the papers, and hidden them under his cloak. He
turns away. His face is now towards me. His eyes are upon me. I am
seen!

"Ho! Monsieur?" he inquired, advancing to meet me. "What success? You
have seen nothing of the horses!"

I made an effort to speak calmly.

"Their tracks," I replied.

Even in this short phrase my voice was quivering with emotion. He might
easily have noticed my agitation, and yet he did not seem to do so.

"Only their tracks, Monsieur! Whither did they lead?"

"To the Levee Road. No doubt they have returned towards the city. We
need have no farther dependence on them."

"Then I shall go to Bringiers at once?"

This was put hypothetically.

The proposal gave me pleasure. I wished him away.

I wished to be alone with Aurore.

"It would be as well," I assented, "if you do not deem it too early?"

"Oh, no! besides, I have business in Bringiers that will occupy me all
the day."

"Ah!"

"Doubt not my return to meet you. I am certain to procure either horses
or a carriage. Half-an-hour after twilight you will find me at the end
of the bye-road. Fear not, Monsieur! I have a strong presentiment that
for you all will yet be well. For _me_--ah!"

A deep sigh escaped him as he uttered the last phrase.

What did it mean? Was he mocking me? Had this strange youth a secret
beyond _my_ secret? Did he _know_ that Aurore loved _him_? Was he so
confident--so sure of her heart, that he recked not thus leaving her
alone with me? Was he playing with me as the tiger with its victim?
Were _both_ playing with me?

These horrid thoughts crowding up, prevented me from making a definite
rejoinder to his remarks. I muttered something about hope, but he
seemed hardly to heed my remark. For some reason he was evidently
desirous of being gone; and bidding Aurore and myself adieu, he turned
abruptly off, and with quick, light steps, threaded his way through the