aughter."

"Again! Hark! Oh, mercy!" cried sister Claire, as the sound of a
prolonged volley reached them.

"Let us hope it is the last," said the abbess, with changing colour.
"Christ save their sinful souls!"

The door opened, and Euphrosyne entered, in excessive agitation.

"Madame," she cried, gasping for breath, "do you hear that? Do you know
what it is? They have shot General Moyse! Father Gabriel says so.--Oh
no, no! L'Ouverture never would do anything so cruel."

Sister Claire looked at the abbess.

"My daughter," said the abbess, "L'Ouverture's duty is to execute
justice."

"Oh, Genifrede! Poor, poor Genifrede! She will die too. I hope she is
dead."

"Hush, my child! Her life is in God's hands."

"Oh, how cruel! how cruel!" the girl went on, sobbing.

"What would L'Ouverture say," interposed sister Claire, "if he knew that
you, of all people, called him cruel? Have you to-day put on this?" she
continued, calling Euphrosyne's attention to her new mourning; "and do
you call it cruel to execute justice on the rebels and their officers?"

"It is a natural and amiable grief in Euphrosyne," said the abbess; "and
if it is not quite reasonable, we can give her time to reflect. She is
among friends, who will not report the words of her hours of sorrow."

"You may--you may," cried Euphrosyne. "You may tell the whole world
that it is cruel to--to--They were to have been married so very soon!--
Afra wrote me all about it."

The abbess repeated what she had said about L'Ouverture's office, and
the requirements of justice.

"Justice! justice!" exclaimed Euphrosyne. "There has been no justice
till now; and so the first act is nothing but cruelty."

The abbess with a look dismissed sister Claire, who, by her report of
Euphrosyne's rebellion against justice, sent in Father Gabriel.

"Euphrosyne thinks, father," reported the abbess, "that these negroes,
in consideration of their ignorance, and of their anger at having once
been slaves, should be excused for whatever they may do now, in
revenge."

"I am surprised," said Father Gabriel.

So was Euphrosyne when she heard her argument thus stated.

"I only mean," said she, striving to subdue her sobs; "I only mean that
I wish sister Claire, and sister Benoite, and all of them, would not
want me to be glad and revengeful."

"Glad and revengeful!" repeated Father Gabriel. "That would be
difficult."

"It makes me very miserable--it can do no go