Rosa, without venturing to look up, said, in a faltering tone:  “I cannot bear to bring degradation upon you, Gerald.  It seems wrong to take advantage of your generous forgetfulness of yourself.  When you first told me you loved me, you did not know I was an octoroon, and a—­slave.”

“I knew your mother was a quadroon,” he replied; “and as for the rest, no circumstance can degrade you, my Rose Royal.”

“But if your plan should not succeed, how ashamed you would feel to have us seized!” said she.

“It will succeed, dearest.  But even if it should not, you shall never be the property of any man but myself.”

“Property!”! she exclaimed in the proud Gonsalez tone, striving to withdraw herself from his embrace.

He hastened to say:  “Forgive me, Rosabella.  I am so intoxicated with happiness that I cannot be careful of my words.  I merely meant to express the joyful feeling that you would be surely mine, wholly mine.”

While they were talking thus, Floracita had glided out of the room to carry the tidings to Madame.  The pressure of misfortune had been so heavy upon her, that, now it was lifted a little, her elastic spirit rebounded with a sudden spring, and she felt happier than she had ever thought of being since her father died.  In the lightness of her heart she began to sing, “Petit blanc, mon bon frere!” but she stopped at the first line, for she recollected how her father had checked her in the midst of that frisky little song; and now that she knew they were octoroons, she partly comprehended why it had been disagreeable to him.  But the gayety that died out of her voice passed into her steps.  She went hopping and jumping up to Madame, exclaiming:  “What do you think is going to happen now?  Rosabella is going to be married right off.  What a pity she can’t be dressed like a bride!  She would look so handsome in white satin and pearls, and a great lace veil!  But here are the flowers Florimond brought so opportunely.  I will put the orange-buds in her hair, and she shall have a bouquet in her hand.”

“She will look handsome in anything,” rejoined Madame.  “But tell me about it, little one.”

After receiving Flora’s answers to a few brief questions, she stationed herself within sight of the outer door, that she might ask Fitzgerald for more minute directions concerning what they were to do.  He very soon made his appearance, again disguised as the Signor.

After a hurried consultation, Madame said:  “I do hope nothing will happen to prevent our getting off safely.  Rosabella has so much Spanish pride, I verily believe she would stab herself rather than go on the auction-stand.”

“Heavens and earth! don’t speak of that!” exclaimed he, impetuously.  “Do you suppose I would allow my beautiful rose to be trampled by swine.  If we fail, I will buy them if it costs half my fortune.  But we shall not fail.  Don’t let the girls go out of the door till you hear the signal.”