"Leclerc."
On board the vessel which carried these tidings was Pascal, prepared to
give a different version of the late transactions, and revolving, with
Afra, the means by which he might best employ such influence as he had
on behalf of his friend. Theirs was a nearly hopeless errand, they well
knew; but the less hopeful, the more anxious were they to do what they
could.
Was Euphrosyne with them?--No. She never forgot the duty which she had
set before her--to stay near Le Bosquet, in hopes of better times, when
she might make reparation to the people of the estate for what they had
suffered at her grandfather's hands. A more pressing duty also detained
her on the island. She could be a daughter to Monsieur Raymond in
Afra's stead, and thus make their duty easier to the Pascals. Among the
lamentations and prayers which went up from the mourning island were
those of the old man and the young girl who wept together at Le Zephyr--
scarcely attempting yet to forgive the enemies whose treachery had
outraged the Deliverer--as he was henceforth called, more fondly than
ever. They were not wholly wretched. They dwelt on the surprise and
pleasure it would be to the Ouvertures to find the Pascals in France
before them. Euphrosyne had also the satisfaction of doing something,
however indirectly, for her unfortunate friends; and she really enjoyed
the occupation, to her so familiar, and still so dear, of ministering to
the comfort of an old man, who had no present dependence but on her.
Her cares and duties were soon increased. The habitations of the Plain
du Nord became so disgusting and so dangerous as the pestilence strewed
the land with dead, and the survivors of the French army became, in
proportion to the visitation, desperate and savage, that Madame Oge was,
at length, like all her neighbours, driven from her home. She wished to
take refuge with one of her own colour; and Monsieur Raymond, at
Euphrosyne's suggestion, invited her to Le Zephyr, to await better days.
With a good grace did Euphrosyne go out to meet her; with a good grace
did she welcome and entertain her. The time was past when she could be
terrified with evil prognostications. In the hour of the earthquake, no
one heeds the croak of the raven.
Among the nuns at Saint Marc there was trembling, which the pale abbess
herself could not subdue by reason or exhortation. Their ears were
already weary with the moans of the dying. They had now to hear the
shrieks and curses of the kidnapped blacks--the friends of L'Ouverture--
whose homes were made desolate. The terrified women could not but ask
each other, "who next?" for they all loved L'Ouverture, and had declared
their trust in him. No one injured the household of the abbess,
however; and the sisters were all spared, in safety and honour, to hear
the proclamation of the Independence of Hayti, and to enjoy the
protection and friendship of its beloved Empress.
And where was she--Therese--when Saint Marc was resounding with the
cries of her husband's betrayed companions and friends? She was on the
way to the fastnesses, where her unyielding husband was preparing a
tremendous retribution for those whom he had never trusted. She
rejoiced, solemnly but mournfully, that he had never yielded. She could
not wonder that the first words of Dessalines to her, when he met her
horse on the steep, were a command that she would never more intercede
for a Frenchman--never more hold back his strong hand from the work
which he had now to do. She never did, till that which, in a chief, was
warfare, became, in an emperor, vengeance. Then she resumed her woman's
office of intercession; and by it won for herself the title of "the Good
Empress."
The eyes which first caught sight of the receding ship _Heros_, at dawn,
were those of Paul L'Ouverture and Genifrede. They had sent messengers,
more likely than themselves to reach Christophe and Dessalines, with the
last message of Toussaint; and they were now at leisure to watch, from
the heights above their hut (their home henceforth), the departure of
all who bore their name. They were left alone, but not altogether
forlorn. They called each other father and daughter; and here they
could freely, and for ever, mourn Moyse.
Christophe received the message. It was not needed to rouse him to take
upon himself, or to share with Dessalines, the office of him who was
gone. The thoughts of his heart were told to none. They were
unspeakable, except by the language of deeds. His deeds proclaimed
them: and after his faithful warfare, during his subsequent mild reign,
his acts of liberality, wisdom, and mercy, showed how true was his
understanding of the mission of L'Ouverture.
There were many to share his work to-day. Dessalines was the chief: but
leaders sprang up wherever soldiers appeared, asking to be led; and that
was everywhere, from the moment of the report of the abduction of
Toussaint. Clerveaux revolted from the French, and visited on them the
bitterness of his remorse. Maurepas also repented, and was putting his
repentance into action when he was seized, tortured, and murdered, with
his family. Bellair and his wife conducted with new spirit, from this
day, a victorious warfare which was never intermitted, being bequeathed
by their barbarous deaths to their exasperated followers.
It was true, as Toussaint knew and felt in his solitary prison on the
waters, that the groans which went up from the heights and hollows, the
homes and the fastnesses of the island, were such as could not but unite
in a fearful war-cry; but it was also true, as he had known and felt
during the whole term of his power, that in this war victory could not
be doubtful. He had been made the portal of freedom to his race. The
passions of men might gather about it, and make a conflict, more or less
tremendous and protracted; but the way which God had opened, and guarded
by awakened human hearts, no multitude of rebellious human hands could
close.