, and was impatient till their doom was fulfilled. Therese
resolved to return no more to the chamber till all should be over, lest
light and sound should enter with her, and the sufferer be roused too
soon.

As the yellow rays shone in fuller and fuller, the watcher's nerves were
so stretched, that though she wrapped her head in her shawl as she sat,
she felt as if the rustle of every leaf, the buzz of every insect-wing
in the gardens, reached her ear. She heard at intervals the tap of a
distant drum, and, she was certain, a discharge of firearms--not in a
volley from the Place d'Armes, as she had expected, but further off, and
mere dropping shot. This occurred so often, that she was satisfied it
was not the execution; and, while she drew a deep breath, hardly knew
whether to feel relieved or not. The door from the corridor presently
opened and closed again, before she could throw back the shawl from her
face. She flew to the door, to see if any one was there who could give
her news. Monsieur Pascal was walking away toward the further end.
When she issued forth, he turned and apologised for having interrupted
her, believing that the salon would be unoccupied at this early hour.

"Tell me--only tell me," said she, "whether it is over."

"Not the principal execution--it is about going forward now. I came
away--I saw what melted my soul; and I could endure no more."

"You saw L'Ouverture?" said Madame Dessalines, anxiously.

Monsieur Pascal went back with her into the salon, as glad to relieve
his mind as she was eager to hear.

"I saw," said he, "what I never could have conceived of, and would never
have believed upon report. I have seen man as a god among his
fellow-men."

A gleam of satisfaction lighted up Madame Dessalines' face, through its
agony.

"It was too touching, too mournful to be endured," resumed Monsieur
Pascal. "The countenances of those poor creatures will haunt me to my
dying hour. Never was man idolised like L'Ouverture. For him, men go
willingly to their deaths--not in the excitement of a common danger; not
for glory or for a bright future--but solitary, in ignominy, in the
light of a calm sunrise, with the eyes of a condemning multitude upon
them. Without protest, without supplication--as it appears, without
objection--they stoop to death at his word."

"I do not know--I do not understand what has been done," said Therese.
"But does not every black know that L'Ouverture has no pr