But no—they feared me not—else their flight would have been more distant. They only flitted to the next tree; and there again, seated side by side, resumed their love-converse. Absorbed in mutual fondness, they had already forgotten my presence!
I followed to watch these pretty creatures—the types of gentleness and love. I flung me on the grass, and gazed upon thorn, tenderly kissing and cooing. I envied their delight.
My nerves, that for days had been dancing with more than ordinary excitement, were now experiencing the natural reaction, and I felt weary. There was a drowsiness in the air—a narcotic influence produced by the combined action of the sun’s rays and the perfume of the flowers. It acted upon my spirit, and I fell asleep.
I slept only about an hour, but it was a sleep of dreams; and during that short period I passed through many scenes. Many a visionary tableau appeared before the eye of my slumbering soul, and then melted away. There were more or less characters in each; but in all of them two were constant, both well defined in form and features. They were Eugénie and Aurore.
Gayarre, too, was in my dreams; and the ruffian overseer, and Scipio, and the mild face of Reigart, and what I could remember of the good Antoine. Even the unfortunate Captain of the boat, the boat herself, the Magnolia, and the scene of the wreck—all were reproduced with a painful distinctness!
But my visions were not all of a painful character. Some were the very opposite—scenes of bliss. In company with Aurore, I was wandering through flowery glades, and exchanging the sweet converse of mutual love. The very spot where I lay—the scene around me—was pictured in the dream.
Strangest of all, I thought that Eugénie was with us, and that she, too, was happy; that she had consented to my marrying Aurore, and had even assisted us in bringing about this happy consummation!
In this vision Gayarre was the fiend; and I thought that after a while he endeavoured to drag Aurore from me. A struggle followed, and then the scene ended with confused abruptness.
A new tableau arose—a new vision. In this Eugénie played the part of the evil genius. I thought she had refused my requests—refused to sell Aurore. I fancied her jealous, hostile, vengeful. I thought she was loading me with imprecations, my betrothed with threats. Aurore was weeping. It was a painful vision.