“Where did it begin?” was the question the landlord applied himself first to answer.
“It broke out on the Noé estate, sir. They murdered the refiner and his apprentice, and carried off the surgeon. They left another young man for dead; but he got away, and told the people on the next plantation; but it was too late then. They had reached Monsieur Clement’s by that time, and raised his people. They say Monsieur Clement is killed; but some of his family escaped. They are here in the town, I believe.”
Some of the deputies now snatched their hats, and went out to learn where the fugitives were, and thus to get information, if possible, at first hand.
“All is safe in our quarter, at present, I trust,” said Papalier to Bayou; “but shall we be gone? Your horse is here, I suppose. We can ride together.”
“In a moment. Let us hear all we can first,” replied Bayou.
“Do you stay for that purpose, then, and look to our horses. I will learn what the Governor’s orders are, and come here for you presently.” And Papalier was gone.
When Bayou turned to listen again, Odeluc was saying—
“Impossible! incredible! Gallifet’s force risen! Not they? They would be firm if the world were crushed flat. Why, they love me as if I were their father!”
“Nevertheless, sir, you owe your safety to being my guest,” said the landlord, with a bow as polite as on the most festive occasion. “I am happy that my roof should—”
“Who brought this report?” cried Odeluc. “Who can give news of Gallifet’s negroes?” And he looked among the black faces which were clustered behind the landlord. No one spoke thence; but a voice from the piazza said—