its way in and out. The grass
on the little enclosed lawns grew so rank, that the cattle, now wild,
were almost hidden as they lay down in it; and so uneven and unsightly
were the patches of growth, that the blossoming shrubs with which it had
been sprinkled for ornament, now looked forlorn and out of place,
flowering amidst the desolation. The slave-quarter was scarcely
distinguishable from the wood behind it, so nearly was it overgrown with
weeds. A young foal was browsing on the thatch, and a crowd of
glittering lizards darted out and away on the approach of human feet.

Jacques did not stay at the slave-quarter; but he desired his company to
remain there and in the neighbouring field, while he went with Therese
to bring out their chief to them. They went up to the house; but in no
one of its deserted chambers did they find Toussaint.

"Perhaps he is in his own cottage," said Therese.

"Is it possible," replied Jacques, "that, with this fine house all to
himself, he should take up with that old hut?"

"Let us see," said Therese; "for he is certainly not here."

When they readied Toussaint's cottage, it was no easy matter to know how
to effect an entrance. Enormous gourds had spread their network over
the ground, like traps for the feet of trespassers. The front of the
piazza was completely overgrown with the creepers which had been brought
there only to cover the posts, and hang their blossoms from the eaves.
They had now spread and tangled themselves, till they made the house
look like a thicket. In one place, however, between two of the posts,
they had been torn down, and the evening wind was tossing the loose
coils about. Jacques entered the gap, and immediately looked out again,
smiling, and beckoning Therese to come and see. There, in the piazza,
they found Toussaint, stretched asleep upon the bench--so soundly
asleep, for once, that the whispers of his friends did not alter, for a
moment, his heavy breathing.

"How tired he must be!" said Jacques. "At other times I have known his
sleep so light, that he was broad awake as quick as a lizard, if a
beetle did but sail over his head."

"He may well be tired," said Therese. "You know how weary he looked at
mass this morning. I believe he had no rest last night; and now this
march to-day--"

"Well! He must rouse up now, however; for his business will not wait."
And he called him by his name.

"Henri!" cried Toussaint, starting up.

"No, not