"We citizens of New Orleans don't fight about colored gals," answered the planter, turning upon his heel, contemptuously, and walking toward the spot where Cora stood, side by side with Toby and the other slaves. Gilbert Margrave released himself from the arms of those who held him. "I must follow him," he said, "I must speak to him. I pledge you my honor that I will attempt no violence, but I tell you I must speak to him. Life and death hang on this matter. How can I go back to Gerald Leslie, and tell the broken-hearted father that I was powerless to save his only child?" Gilbert found Augustus standing at a little distance from the group of slaves contemplating Cora with the insolently admiring glance with which the master surveys his property. She was no longer the woman who had scorned and defied him. She was his slave, his purchased slave, over whom the law gave him full and indisputable authority. "Mr. Horton," said Gilbert, in a voice rendered hoarse by emotion, "let me speak to you a few moments?" The planter bowed superciliously. "Well, sir?" he said, as they withdrew to a solitary corner of the auction room. "You are aware that had my means enabled me, I would have outbid you just now in the purchase of Miss Leslie." Augustus Horton laughed aloud. "Miss Leslie!" he repeated scornfully; "we don't call the slaves Miss and Mr. down south. I guess you would like to outbid me for this Octoroon girl, Cora, but I'm happy to say you weren't able to do it. Had you bid a hundred thousand dollars, I'd have outbid you, and if you'd doubled that I'd have outbid you still. No man comes cheaply between Augustus Horton and his will." "Tell me," said Gilbert, "tell me, what do you want with Mr. Leslie's daughter. Why do you want to become her master?" Again Augustus laughed, and the hot blood mounted to Gilbert's cheek as he heard the mocking laughter. "If it comes to that," said the planter, "why do you want her?" "Because I love her." "Then one answer will do for both of us," said Augustus. "I want her because I love her." "No," cried Gilbert, "no, Mr. Horton. Do not sully the pure and holy name of Love by so base a blasphemy. Yours is the low passion of the profligate who seeks to destroy that which he pretends to love. Mine is the honorable sentiment of the man who seeks to bestow upon her he adores the sacred name of wife." "You Britishers have another way of thinking to what we have in Louisiana," answered Augustus; "we don't marry our slaves. However, I've no wish to quarrel with other folks' opinions; the girl's mine and I don't mean to part with her, so good day to you, Mr. Margrave." Gilbert laid his hand upon the planter's shoulder.