h grass
at some little distance from the water, and prevented his companions
from approaching any nearer. The sun was hot, and Genifrede was not
long in desiring to return to the garden.

"Let us go back," said she. "Juste is not here."

"Yes he is," said Denis. "However, go back if you like. I shall go
fowling with Juste." And he began to strip off his clothes.

His companions were of opinion, however, that a son of the
Commander-in-chief must not sport with a farmer's boy, without leave of
parents or tutor; and they begged him to put on his clothes again, at
least till leave was asked. Denis had never cared for his rank, except
when riding by his father's side on review-days; and now he liked it
less than ever, as the pond lay gleaming before him, the fowl sailing
and fluttering on the surface, and his dignity prevented his going among
them.

"What makes you say that Juste is here?" said Genifrede.

"I have seen him take five fowl in the last five minutes."

As he spoke, he plucked the top of a bulrush, and threw it with such
good aim, that it struck a calabash which appeared to be floating among
others on the surface of the pond. That particular calabash immediately
rose, and the face of a negro child appeared, to the consternation of
the fowl, whose splashing and screaming might be heard far and wide.
Juste came out of the water, displaying at his belt the result of his
sport. He had, as Denis had said, taken five ducks in five minutes by
pulling them under the water by the feet, while lying near them with his
head covered by the calabash. The little fellow was not satisfied with
the admiration of the beholders; he ran homewards, with his clothes in
his hand, Denis at his heels, and his game dangling from his waist, and
dripping as he ran.

"Many a white would shudder to see that child," said Moyse, as Juste
disappeared. "That is the way Jean's blacks wore their trophies during
the first days of the insurrection."

"Trophies!" said Genifrede. "You mean heads: heads with their trailing
hair;" and her face worked with horror as she spoke. "But it is not for
the whites to shudder, after what they did to Oge, and have done to many
a negro since."

"But they think we do not feel as they do."

"Not feel! O Christ! If any one of them had my heart before I knew
you--in those days at Breda, when Monsieur Bayou used to come down to
us!"

"Here comes that boy again," cried Moyse. "Let us go into th