f naming Christophe and Dessalines, the
companies in the mornes, the fever among the whites, and whatever might
be most likely to draw his master into conversation on the hopes and
resources of the blacks. He became more and more convinced that the
weakness of his companion was practised upon, and possibly his
attachment to his master, by promises of good to both, on condition of
information furnished. He was nearly certain that he had once heard the
door of the cell closed gently, as he was beginning to awake, in the
middle of the night; and he was quite sure that he one day saw Mars
Plaisir burn a note, as he replenished the fire, while he thought his
master was busy reading. Not even these mysterious proceedings could
make Toussaint feel anything worse than sorrowing pity for Mars Plaisir.

The Commandant had ceased to visit his prisoners. During the rest of
the winter, he never came. He sent books occasionally, but less
frequently. The supply of firewood was gradually diminished; and so was
the quantity of food. The ailments of the prisoners were aggravated,
from day-to-day; and if the Commandant had favoured them with his
presence, he would have believed that he saw two dusky shadows amidst
the gloom of their cell, rather than men.

One morning, Toussaint awoke, slowly and with difficulty, from a sleep
which appeared to have been strangely sound for one who could not move a
limb without pain, and who rarely, therefore, slept for many minutes
together. It must have been strangely long, too; for the light was as
strong as it had ever been at noon in this dim cell. Before he rose,
Toussaint felt that there was sunshine in the air; and the thought that
spring was come, sent a gleam of pleasure through his spirit. It was
true enough. As he stood before the window, something like a shadow
might be seen on the floor. No sky--not a shred the breadth of his
hand--was to be seen. For six months past, he had behold neither cloud,
nor star, nor the flight of a bird. But, casting a glance up to the
perpendicular rock opposite, he saw that it faintly reflected sunshine.
He saw, moreover, something white moving--some living creature upon this
rock. It was a young kid, standing upon a point or ledge imperceptible
below--by its action, browsing upon some vegetation which could not be
seen so far-off.

"Mars Plaisir! Mars Plaisir!" cried Toussaint. "Spring is come! The
world is alive again, even here. Mars Plais