ssaint was many paces in advance of
his guards. But few opportunities had he enjoyed, of late, of
exercising his limbs. He believed that this would be the last; and he
sprang up the rocky pathway with a sense of desperate pleasure. Panting
and heated, the most active of the soldiers reached the summit some
moments after him. Toussaint had made use of those few moments. He had
fixed in his memory the loading points of the landscape towards the
east--the bearings of the roads which opened glimpses into two valleys
on that side--the patches of enclosure--the nooks of pasture where cows
were grazing, and children were at play--these features of the landscape
he eagerly comprehended--partly for use, in case of any opportunity of
escape; partly for solace, if he should not henceforth be permitted to
look abroad.

A few, and but a few, more moments he had, while the drawbridge was
lowered, the portcullis raised, and the guard sent in with some order
from his officer. Toussaint well knew that that little plot of fields,
with its winding stream, was the last verdure that he might ever see.
The snowy summits which peered over the fir-tops were prophets of death
to him; for how should he, who had gone hither and thither under the sun
of the tropics for sixty years, live chained among the snows? Well did
he know this; yet he did not wait to be asked to pass the bridge.

The drawbridge and the courtyard were both deserted. Not a soldier was
to be seen. Mars Plaisir muttered his astonishment, but his master
understood, that the presence of negro prisoners in the fortress was not
to become known. He read in this incident a prophecy of total
seclusion.

They were marched rapidly through the courtyard, into a dark passage,
where they were desired to stop. In a few moments Toussaint heard the
tramp of feet about the gate, and understood that the soldiers had been
ordered back to their post.

"The Commandant," the officer announced to his prisoners; and the
Commandant Rubaut entered the dim passage. Toussaint formed his
judgment of him, to a certain extent, in a moment. Rubaut endeavoured
to assume a tone of good-humoured familiarity; but there appeared
through this a misgiving as to whether he was thus either letting
himself down, on the one hand, or, on the other, encroaching on the
dignity of the person he addressed. His prisoner was a negro; but then
he had been the recognised Commander-in-Chief of Saint Domingo. On