Her large brown eyes were fixed upon me in a gaze of wonder, but they also interrogated me.
“Yes, endearing—I mean, Aurore—that you will not shun me—that you will give me your confidence—that you will regard me as a friend—a—a—brother.”
“You, Monsieur! you as my brother—a white—a gentleman, high-born and educated! I—I—oh Heavens! what am I? A slave—a slave—whom men love only to ruin. O God!—why is my destiny so hard? O God!”
“Aurore!” I cried, gathering courage from her agony, “Aurore, listen to me! to me, your friend, your—”
She removed her hands that had been clasped across her face, and looked up. Her swimming eyes were bent steadfastly upon mine, and regarded me with a look of interrogation.
At that moment a train of thought crossed my mind. In words it was thus: “How long may we be alone? We may be interrupted? So fair an opportunity may not offer again. There is no time to waste in idle converse. I must at once to the object of my visit.”
“Aurore!” I said, “it is the first time we have met alone. I have longed for this interview. I have a word that can only be spoken to you alone.”
“To me alone, Monsieur! What is it?”
“Aurore, I love you!”
“Love me! Oh, Monsieur, it is not possible!”