me the glass."

"All French," replied his friend. "They are, no doubt, coming to
rendezvous at this point."

While Henri explored those which were nearest, Toussaint leaned on his
folded arms against the bank of broken ground before him, straining his
eyes over the now-peopled sea.

"More! More!" he exclaimed, as the sun appeared, and the new gush of
light showed sail upon sail, as small specks upon the horizon line. He
snatched the glass; and neither he nor Henri spoke for long.

The east wind served the purposes of the vast fleet, whose three
detachments, once within each other's view, rapidly converged, showing
that it was indeed their object to rendezvous at Cap Samana. Silent,
swift, and most fair (as is the wont of evil) was this form of
destruction in its approach.

Not a word was spoken as the great ships-of-the-line bore majestically
up towards their point, while the lighter vessels skimmed the sea, as in
sport, and made haste in, as if racing with one another, or anxious to
be in waiting, to welcome their superiors. Nearer and nearer they
closed in, till the waters seemed to be covered with the foe. When
Toussaint was assured that he had seen them all--when he had again and
again silently counted over the fifty-four ships-of-war--he turned to
his friend with a countenance of anguish, such as even that friend of
many years had never seen.

"Henri," said he, "we must all perish. All France has come to Saint
Domingo!"

"Then we will perish," replied Henri.

"Undoubtedly: it is not much to perish, if that were all. But the world
will be the worse for ever. Trance is deceived. She comes, in an
error, to avenge herself, and to enslave the blacks. Trance has been
deceived."

"If we were but all together," said Henri, "so that there were no
moments of weakness to fear.--If your sons were but with us--"

"Fear no moments of weakness from me," said Toussaint, its wonted fire
now glowing in his eye. "My colour imposes on me duties above nature;
and while my boys are hostages, they shall be to me as if they no longer
existed."

"They may possibly be on board the fleet," said Christophe. "If by
caution we could obtain possession of them--"

"Speak no more of them now," said Toussaint.--Presently, as if thinking
aloud, and with his eyes still bent on the moving ships, he went on:

"No, those on board those ships are not boys, with life before them, and
eager alike for arts and arms. I see who