ld you that the poor
blacks behaved perfectly well from the moment they met me? They did not
do a single act of violence after I went to them. Not a hand was raised
when they had once seen me; and after I had put them into good-humour,
they all went to their homes."

"Oh, is it so? Is it really so? But you said just now that everything
depended on your seeing my father."

"To a soldier, his honour, his professional standing, are everything--"

Seeing a painful expression in Genifrede's face, he explained that even
his private happiness--the prosperity of his love, depended on his
professional honour and standing. She must be as well aware as himself
that he was now wholly at her father's mercy, as regarded all his
prospects in life; and that this would justify any eagerness to see him.

"At his mercy," repeated Genifrede; "and he is merciful. He does acts
of mercy every day."

"True--true. You see now you were too much alarmed."

"But, Moyse, how came you to need his mercy? But two days ago how proud
he was of you! and now--Oh! Moyse, when you knew what depended on these
few days, how could you fail?"

"How was it that, he put me into an office that I was not fit for? He
should have seen--"

"Then let us leave him, and all these affairs which make us so
miserable. Let us go to your father. He will let us live at Saint
Domingo in peace."

Moyse shook his head, saying that there were more whites at Saint
Domingo than in any other part of the island; and the plain truth was,
he could not live where there were whites.

"How was it then that you pleased my father so much when Hedouville went
away? He whispered to me, in the piazza at Pongaudin, that, next to
himself, you saved the town--that many whites owed their lives and their
fortunes to you."

"I repent," cried Moyse, bitterly, "I repent of my deeds of that day. I
repent that any white ever owed me gratitude. I thank God, I have
shaken them off, like the dust from my feet! Thank God, the whites are
all cursing me now!"

"What do you mean? How was it all?" cried Genifrede, fearfully.

"When Hedouville went away, my first desire was to distinguish myself,
that I might gain you, as your father promised. This prospect, so near
and so bright, dazzled me so that I could not see black faces from
white. For the hour, one passion put the other out."

"And when--how soon did you begin to forget me?" asked Genifrede,
sorrowfully.

"I have nev