the wide shade of the banyan, He made a
tent for the blacks. When He filled the air with the scent of the
cinnamon and the cacao, was it not for the blacks to enjoy the
fragrance? Has He not given them music? Has he not given them love and
a home? What has He not given them? Let the whites think of us as they
will! They shall be welcome to a share of what God gave the blacks,
though they return us nothing better than wet wood, to warm us among
their snows."

"It is true," said Mars Plaisir, his complacency completely
restored--"God thinks nothing too good for the blacks. I will tell the
First Consul so, if--"

"The First Consul would rather hear something else from you: and you
know, Mars Plaisir, the whites laugh at us for our boastings. However,
tell the First Consul what you will."

Again was Mars Plaisir silenced, and his countenance confused.
Perpetually, from this hour did he drop words which showed an
expectation of seeing the First Consul--words which were never noticed
by his master. Every time that the increasing weakness and pain under
which Toussaint suffered forced themselves on his servant's
observation--whenever the skeleton hands were rubbed in his own, to
relieve cramps and restore warmth; or the friendly office was returned,
in spite of the shame and confusion of the servant at finding himself
thus served--with every drift of snow which blocked up the window--and
every relaxation of frost, which only increased the worse evil of the
damp--Mars Plaisir avowed or muttered the persuasive things he would say
to the First Consul.

Toussaint felt too much sympathy to indulge in much contempt for his
companion. He, too, found it hard to be tortured with cramps, and wrung
by spasms--to enjoy no respite from vexations of body and spirit. He,
too, found the passage to the grave weary and dreary. And, as for an
interview with Bonaparte, for how long had this been his first desire!
How distinctly had it of late been the reserve of his hope! Reminding
himself, too, of the effects on the wretched of an indefinite hope, such
as the unsettled mind and manners of his servant convinced him, more and
more, had been held out--he could not, in the very midst of scenes of
increasing folly and passion, despise poor Mars Plaisir. He mistrusted
him, however, and with a more irksome mistrust continually, while he
became aware that Mars Plaisir was in the habit of lamenting Saint
Domingo chiefly for the sake o