“Raymond is excellent as a man, whatever he may be as governor of Cap,” said Moyse. “But we have been speaking of whites, not of mulattoes—which is another long chapter.”
“Raymond was sent to us by France, however,” said Aimée.
“So was our friend Vincent there; but that is nothing to the purpose.”
“Well; who next?” cried Denis.
“Do not encourage him,” said Aimée. “My father would be vexed with you for training him to ridicule the French—particularly the authorities.”
“Now we are blessed with Hédouville,” pursued Moyse. “There you have him, Denis—only scarcely sly, scarcely smooth enough. Yet, that is Hédouville, who has his eye and his smiles at play in one place, while his heart and hands are busy in another.”
“Busy,” said Génifrède, “in undermining L’Ouverture’s influence, and counteracting his plans; but no one mentioned Ailbaud. Ailbaud—”
“Stay a moment,” said Azua, whose voice had not been heard till then.
All looked at him in surprise, nobody supposing that, while so engrossed with his pencil, he could have cared for their conversation. Aimée saw at a glance that his paper was covered with caricatures of the commissaries who had been enumerated.
“You must have known them,” was Aimée’s involuntary testimony, as the paper went from hand to hand, amidst shouts of laughter, while Azua sat, with folded arms, perfectly grave.