ners of all complexions--that some have lived and some
have died--and that you have something else to do than to remember what
became of each. I hope, however, and (as it would be for the advantage
of the First Consul) I believe, that you would have the complaisance to
show them my grave."

"Come, come! no foreboding! Foreboding is bad," repeated Rubaut.

Toussaint smiled, and said--

"What other employment do you afford me than that of looking into the
past and future, in order to avoid the present? If, turning from the
sickening view which the past presents of the treachery of your race to
mine, of the abuse of my brotherly trust in him by which your ruler has
afflicted our hearts if, turning from this mournful past, I look the
other way, what do I see before me but the open grave?"

"You are out of spirits," said Rubaut, building up the fire.

"You wear well, however. You must have been very strong in your best
days. You wear extremely well."

"I still live; and that I do so is because the sun of my own climate,
and the strength of soul of my best days, shine and glow through me now,
quenching in part even these damps. But I am old, and every day heaps
years on me. However, I am as willing as you that my looking forward
should be for others than myself. I might be able to forebode for
France, and for its ruler."

Rubaut folded his arms, and leaned, as if anxious to listen, against the
wall beside the fire; but it was so wet that he quickly shifted his
position; still, however, keeping his eyes fixed on his prisoner.

"And what would you forebode for France, and for her ruler?" he asked.

"That my country will never again be hers. Her retribution is as sure
as her tyranny has been great. She may send out fleet after fleet, each
bearing an army; but the spirit of freedom will be too strong for them
all. Their bodies will poison the air, and choke the sea, and the names
of their commanders will, one after another, sink in disgrace, before
they will again make slaves of my people in Saint Domingo. How stands
the name of Leclerc at this moment in France?"

"Leclerc is dead," said Rubaut; repenting, the next moment, that he had
said so much. Toussaint saw this by his countenance, and inquired no
further.

"He is dead! and twenty thousand Frenchmen with him, who might at this
hour have been enjoying at home the natural wealth of my country, the
fruits of our industry. The time was when I thought yo