Disgrace there might be—danger I knew there was, not only to my liberty, but my life. I cared but little about the disgrace; I recked not of the danger. My purpose was fixed—my determination taken.
Brief had been the mental process that conducted me to this determination—the more brief that the thought had passed through my mind before—the more brief that I believed there was positively no other means I could adopt. It was the only course of action left me—either that, or yield up all that I loved without a struggle—and, passion-led as I was, I was not going to yield. Certain disgrace,—even death itself, appeared more welcome than this alternative.
I had formed not yet the shadow of a plan. That, must be thought of afterwards; but even at that moment was action required. My poor heart was on the rack; I could not bear the thought that a single night should pass and she under the same roof with that hideous man!
Wherever she should pass the night, I was determined that I should not be far-distant from her. Walls might separate us, but she should know I was near. Just that much of a plan had I thought of.
Stepping to a retired spot, I took out my note-book, and wrote upon one of its leaves:
“Ce soir viendrai!—Edouard.”
I had no time to be more particular, for I feared every moment she would be hurried out of my sight. I tore out the leaf; and, hastily folding it, returned to the entrance of the Rotundo.
Just as I got back to the door a hackney-carriage drove up, and halted in front. I conjectured its use, and lost no time in providing another from a stand close by. This done, I returned within the hall. I was yet in time. As I entered, I saw Aurore being led away from the rostrum.
I pressed into the crowd, and stood in such a position that she would have to pass near me. And she did so, our hands met, and the note parted from my fingers. There was no time for a further recognition—not even a love-pressure—for the moment after she was hurried on through the crowd, and the carriage-door closed after her.
The mulatto girl accompanied her, and another of the female slaves. All were put into the carriage. The negro-dealer climbed to the box alongside the coachman, and the vehicle rattled off over the stony pavement.