aint, "vengeance
is not ours. Jacques knows that my maxim in the field--my order, which
may not be transgressed--is, No retaliation! I will have the same rule
obeyed in my council-chamber, as we all, I trust, observe it in our
prayers. Jacques, you have not now to learn my principle and my
command--no retaliation. Have you ever known it infringed, since the
hour when you found me at Breda, and made me your chief?"

"Never."

"Nor shall you while I am obeyed. If the hour for defence comes we
shall be ready. Till then we owe allegiance."

"You will find it too late," Dessalines said, once more.

"The Assembly," said Toussaint to Raymond, "will withdraw their
proposition regarding my being President of this island. I have all
needful power as Commander-in-chief of the colony."

"They have already published their request," said Raymond; "which I do
not regret, because--"

"I regret it much," said Toussaint. "It will incense France."

"I do not regret it," pursued Raymond, "because it renders necessary the
publication of your refusal, which cannot but satisfy France."

"On the point of Toussaint's supposed ambition it may satisfy France,"
observed Christophe. "But if Bonaparte be jealous of the influence of
the First of the Blacks, this homage of the Assembly will not abate his
jealousy."

"Have you more messages for us, Raymond?--No. Then Monsieur Pascal and
I will examine these reports, and prepare my replies. This our little
council is memorable, friends, for being the first in which we could
report of the entire pacification of the colony. May it be only the
first of many! My friends, our council is ended."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

LEISURE FOR ONCE.

Precious to the statesman are the moments he can snatch for the common
pleasures which are strewed over the earth--meant, apparently, for the
perpetual enjoyment of all its inhabitants. The child gathers flowers
in the meadow, or runs up and down a green bank, or looks for birds'
nests every spring day. The boy and girl hear the lark in the field and
the linnet in the wood, as a matter of course: they walk beside the
growing corn, and pass beneath the rookery, and feel nothing of its
being a privilege. The sailor beholds the stars every bright night of
the year, and is familiar with the thousand hues of the changing sea.
The soldier on his march sees the sun rise and set on mountain and
valley, plain and forest. The citizen, pent up in the cent