Who was it ?" But Palmyre Philosophe was not going to give more than she got, even to her old-time Momselle; she merely straightened back into her chair with an amiable face.
"Who do you think he is ?" persisted Aurora, after a pause, smiling downward and toying with her rings.
The quadroon shrugged.
They both sat in reverie for a moment--a long moment for such sprightly natures--and Palmyre's mien took on a professional gravity.

She presently pushed the landlord's letter under the lady's hands as they lay clasped in her lap, and a moment after drew Aurora's glance with her large, strong eyes and asked: "What shall we do ?" The lady immediately looked startled and alarmed and again dropped her eyes in silence.

The quadroon had to speak again.
"We will burn a candle." Aurora trembled.
"No," she succeeded in saying.
"Yes," said Palmyre, "you must get your rent money." But the charm which she was meditating had no reference to rent money.

"She knows that," thought the voudou.
As she rose and called her Congo slave-woman, Aurora made as if to protest further; but utterance failed her.

She clenched her hands and prayed to fate for Clotilde to come and lead her away as she had done at the apothecary's.