sters. So, while I am
away, you must pray Christ to humble the whites. Will you? This is all
you can do. Will you not?"

"How can I, when my father is always exalting them?"

"You must choose between him and me. Love the whites with him, or hate
them with me."

"But you love my father. Moyse?"

"I do. I adore him as the saviour of the blacks. You adore him,
Genifrede. Every one of our race worships him. Genifrede, you love
him--your father."

"I know not--Yes, I loved him the other day. I know not, Moyse. I know
nothing but that--I will hate the whites as you do. I never loved them:
now I hate them."

"You shall. I will tell you things of them that will make you curse
them. I know every white man's heart."

"Then tell my father."

"Does he not know enough already? Is not his cheek furrowed with the
marks of the years during which the whites were masters; and is there
any cruelty, any subtlety, in them that he does not understand? Knowing
all this, he curses, not them, but the flower which, he says, corrupted
them. He keeps from them this power, and believes that all will be
well. I shall tell him nothing."

"Yes, tell him all--all except--"

"Yes, and tell me first," cried a voice near at hand. There was a great
rustling among the bushes, and Denis appeared, begging particularly to
know what they were talking about. They, in return, begged to be told
what brought him this way, to interrupt their conversation.

"Deesha says Juste is out after wild-fowl, and, most likely, among some
of the ponds hereabouts."

"One would think you had lived in Cap all your days," said Moyse. "Do
you look for wild-fowl in a garden?"

"We will see presently," said the boy, thrusting himself into the
thicket in the direction of the ponds, and guiding himself by the scent
of the blossoming reeds--so peculiar as to be known among the many with
which the air was filled. He presently beckoned to his sister; and she
followed with Moyse, till they found themselves in the field where there
had once been several fish-ponds, preserved in order with great care.
All were now dried up but two; and the whole of the water being diverted
to the service of these two, they were considerable in extent and in
depth. What the extent really was, it was difficult to ascertain at the
first glance, so hidden was the margin with reeds, populous with
wild-fowl.

Denis was earnestly watching these fowl, as he lay among the hig