eedom--a heavy price, which has been paid. Let there be no such
barter for vengeance. My children, hear me! Wherever you are--in the
court of our tyrant, or on the wide sea, or on the mountain-top, where
the very storms cannot make themselves heard so high--yet let your
father's voice reach you from his living grave! No vengeance!
Freedom--freedom to the last drop of blood in the veins of our race!
Let our island be left to the wild herds and the reptiles, rather than
be the habitation of slaves: but if you have established freedom there,
it is holy ground, and no vengeance must profane it. If you love me and
my race, you must forgive my murderers. Yes, murderers," he pursued in
thought, after dwelling a while on the images of home and familiar
faces, "murderers they already are, doubtless, in intent. I should have
been sent hence long ago, but for the hope of reaching my counsels
through Mars Plaisir. From the eyes of the world I have already
disappeared; and nothing hinders the riddance of me now. Feeble as I
am, the waiting for death may yet be tedious. If tedious for him who
has this day done with me, how tedious for me, who have done with him
and with all the world!--done with them, except as to the affections
with which one may look back upon them from the clear heights on the
other side of the dark valley. That I should pine and shiver long in
the shadows of that valley would be tedious to him who drove me there
before my time, and to me. He has never submitted to what is tedious,
and he will not now."

The door of the cell was here softly opened, a head showed itself, and
immediately disappeared. Toussaint silently watched the kid, as it
moved from point to point on the face of the rock: and it was with some
sorrow that he at last saw it spring away. Just then, Bellines entered
with the usual miserable breakfast. Toussaint requested fire, to which
Bellines assented. He then asked to have the window opened, that the
air of the spring morning might enter. Bellines shrugged his shoulders,
and observed that the air of these March mornings was sharp. The
prisoner persisted, however; and with the fresh air, there came in upon
him a fresh set of thoughts. Calling Bellines back, he desired, in a
tone of authority, to see the Commandant.

It was strange to him--he wondered at himself on finding his mind filled
with a new enterprise--with the idea of making a last appeal to Rubaut
for freedom--an appea