no crime. But my mind is anxious, and I
have ventured to break your rest. You will pardon me?"

"You do right, my son. We are ready for service, in season and out of
season."

While saying this, the priest had risen, and thrown on his morning-gown.
He now seated himself at the table, saying--

"Let us hear. What is this affair of haste?"

"The cause of my haste is this--that I may probably not again have
conversation with you, father; and I desire to confess, and be absolved
by you once more."

"Good. Some dangerous expedition--is it not so?"

"No. The affair is personal altogether. Have you heard of any decree
of the French Convention by which the negroes--the slaves--of the colony
of Saint Domingo are freely accepted as fellow-citizens, and the colony
declared an integrant part of France?"

"Surely I have. The General was speaking of it last night; and I
brought away a copy of the proclamation consequent upon it. Let me
see," said he, rising, and taking up the lamp, "where did I put that
proclamation?"

"With your sacred books, perhaps, father; for it is a gospel to me and
my race."

"Do you think it of so much importance?" asked Laxabon, returning to the
table with the newspaper containing the proclamation, officially given.
"The General does not seem to think much of it, nor does Jean Francais."

"To a commander of our allies the affair may appear a trifle, father;
and such white planters as cannot refuse to hear the tidings may scoff
at them; but Jean Francais, a negro and a slave--is it possible that he
makes light of this?"

"He does; but he has read it, and you have not. Read it, my son, and
without prejudice."

Toussaint read it again and again.

"Well!" said the priest, as Toussaint put down the paper, no longer
attempting to hide with it the streaming tears which covered his face.

"Father," said he, commanding his voice completely, "is there not hope,
that if men, weakened and blinded by degradation, mistake their duty
when the time for duty comes, they will be forgiven?"

"In what case, my son? Explain yourself."

"If I, hitherto a slave, and wanting, therefore, the wisdom of a free
man, find myself engaged on the wrong side--fighting against the
providence of God--is there not hope that I may be forgiven on turning
to the right?"

"How the wrong side, my son? Are you not fighting for your king, and
for the allies of France?"

"I have been so pledged and so engaged; and