"While we live, my friend, we must accept disappointment. In my youth, I learned to give up hope after hope; and one of the brightest I must now relinquish in my old age."
"Two brilliant ones have, however, entered your dwelling this evening, my friend," said the secretary.
"My boys? Are they not?--But these are times to show what they are. In the joy of having them back, I might have forgiven and forgotten everything, but for the claim--You heard, Pascal?"
"About their leaving you at dawn. Yes; that was amusing."
"If they will not consider a negro a man, they might have remembered that beasts are desperate to recover the young that they have lost.
Leclerc will find, however, that this night will make men of my sons. I will call them my boys no more; and never more shall this envoy call them his pupils, or his charge. These French will find that there is that in this Saint Domingo of ours which quickly ripens young wits, and makes the harvest ready in a day. Let them beware the reaping; for it is another sort of harvest than they look for.--But come," said he: "it is late; and we have to answer the letter of this foreigner--this stranger to my race and nature."
He took some papers from his pocket, sat down beside the friend, and said, with the countenance of one who has heard good news, "See here how little they comprehend how negroes may be friends! See here the proofs that they understand my Henri no better than myself."
And he put into the hands of his secretary those fine letters of Christophe, which do everlasting honour to his head and heart, and show that he bore a kingly soul before he adorned the kingly office. As Monsieur Pascal road the narrative of Leclerc"s attempts to alarm, to cajole, and to bribe Christophe to betray his friend"s cause, and deliver up his person, the pale countenance of the secretary became now paler with anger and disgust, now flushed with pleasure and admiration.
"Here is the friend that sticketh closer than a brother," said he.
"Alas! poor Paul! he will be faithful, Pascal; but he can never again love me."
"Pardon me, I entreat you. I meant no allusion."
"You did not. But everything serves as an allusion there; for Paul is never out of my mind. Now for our letters;--that to Leclerc modified, as you perceive, by our knowledge of what has pa.s.sed between him and Henri."
"Modified, indeed!" exclaimed Pascal.
Their proceedings were destined to be further modified by the events of this night. Tidings as black as the darkest night that ever brooded over the island in the season of storms poured in to overshadow the prospects of the negroes, and the hopes of their chief.
It was after midnight when, in the midst of their quiet consultation, Toussaint and his secretary thought they heard voices at the gate.
Toussaint was going to ascertain, when he was met in the hall by news that a messenger from the south-west had arrived. The messenger entered, halting and slow.
"It is--no," said Pascal; "surely it cannot be--"
"Is it possible that you are Jacques?" exclaimed Toussaint, his eyes shaded by his hand.
"I am Dessalines," said the wounded man, who had already sunk upon a seat.
"Why come yourself, in this state!" cried Toussaint, hastening to support him.
"I could more easily come than write my news," replied Dessalines; "and it is news that I would commit to no man"s ear but your own."
"Shall I go?" asked Monsieur Pascal of Toussaint.
"No. Stay and hear. Tell us your tidings, Jacques."
"I am as well here as down in the south-west, or you would not have seen me."
"You mean that all is lost there?"
"All is lost there."
"While the enemy is beguiling us with letters, and talk of truce!"
observed Toussaint to Pascal. "Where was your battle, Jacques? How can all the west be lost?"
"The French have bought La Plume. They told him your cause was desperate, and promised him honours and office in France. Get me cured, and let me win a battle for you, and I have no doubt I can buy him back again. Meantime--"
"Meantime, what has Domage done? Is he with me or La Plume? And is Chaney safe?"
"Domage never received your instructions. La Plume carried them, and no doubt, your aide-de-camp also, straight to the French. Chaney has not been seen: he is traitor or prisoner."
"Then Cayes is not burned, nor Jeremie defended?"
"Neither the one nor the other. Both are lost; and so is Port-au-Prince. My troops and I did our best at the Croix de Bosquets: but what could we do in such a case? I am here, wounded within an inch of my life; and they are in the fastnesses. You were a doctor once, L"Ouverture. Set me up again; and I will gather my men from the mountains, and p.r.i.c.k these whites all across the peninsula into the sea."
"I will be doctor, or nurse, or anything, to save you, Jacques."
"What if I have more bad news? Will you not hate me?"
"Lose no time, my friend. This is no hour for trifling."
"There is no room for trifling, my friend. I fear--I am not certain-- but I fear the east is lost."
"Is Clerveaux bought too?"
"Not bought. He is more of your sort than La Plume"s. He is incorruptible by money; but he likes the French, and he loves peace. He would be a very brother to you, if he only loved liberty better than either. As it is, he is thought to have delivered over the whole east, from the Isabella to Cap Samana, without a blow."
"And my brother!"
"He has disappeared from the city. He did not yield; but he could do nothing by himself, or with only his guard. He disappeared in the night, and is thought to have put off! by water. You will soon hear from him, I doubt not. Now I have told my news, and I am faint. Where is Therese?"
"She is here. Look more like yourself, and she shall be called. You have told all your news?"
"All; and I am glad it is out."
"Keep up your heart, Dessalines! I have you and Henri; and G.o.d is with the faithful.--Now to your bed, my friend."
Instead of the attendants who were summoned, Therese entered. She spoke no word, but aided by her servant, had her husband carried to his chamber. When the door was closed, sad and serious as were the tidings which had now to be acted upon, the secretary could not help asking L"Ouverture if he had ever seen Madame Dessalines look as she did just now.
"Yes," he replied, "on certain occasions, some years since.--But here she is again."
Therese came to say that her husband had yet something to relate into Toussaint"s own ear before he could sleep; but, on her own part, she entreated that she might first be permitted to dress his wounds.
"Send for me when you think fit, and I will come, madame. But, Therese, one word. I am aware that Monsieur Papalier is here. Do not forget that you are a Christian, and pledged to forgive injuries."
"You think you read my thoughts, L"Ouverture; but you do not. Listen, and I am gone. His voice once had power over me through love, and then through hatred. I never miss the lightest word he speaks. I heard him tell his old friends from Cap that I was his slave, and that the time was coming when masters would claim their own again. Now you know my thoughts."
And she was gone.
When Toussaint returned from his visit to Dessalines" chamber, he found Monsieur Pascal sitting with his face hid in his hands.
"Meditation is good," said Toussaint, laying his hand on his friend"s shoulder. "Lamentation is unworthy."