And he offered a paper, which Hédouville took, but tore in pieces, trampling them under foot, and saying, that he had never before been so insulted in his function.
“That is a childish act,” observed Toussaint, as he looked down upon the fragments of the document. “And a useless one,” he continued; “for my secretary is getting it printed off by this time.”
“Are you going to dare to put my name to a proclamation I have not seen?”
“Certainly not. My name will suffice, if you compel me to dispense with yours. This proclamation grants—”
Hédouville here gave whispered directions to Delon, who hastened towards the house; and to another, who made for the barrack-yard.
“From every quarter,” said Toussaint, “you will have confirmation of the news I brought. I will speak presently of what must be done. This proclamation,” pointing to the torn paper, “grants an amnesty to all engaged in former conflicts of race, and declares that there are no ‘returned emigrants’ in the island—that they are all considered native proprietors—that all now absent shall be welcome again, and shall be protected—that the blacks are free citizens, and will so remain; but that they shall continue for five years to till the estates on which they live, for one-fourth of the produce.”
“I do not see the grounds of your disgust with my proclamation,” said Hédouville. “I think your anger absurd.”
“I have no doubt you do. This proves, with a multitude of other circumstances, that you must go.”
“Admirable! And leave the colony to your government!”
“Just so. If you ask the whites of the island, they will tell you, almost to a man, that I can govern the whites; while events daily show that you cannot rule the blacks. While you have held the title of Commissary, you know that you have ruled only by my permission—sometimes strengthened by my approbation—oftener spared by my forbearance. I am aware that these gentlemen are not of that opinion,” he continued, his voice assuming the mildness which always distinguished it when he spoke of his personal injuries. “They believe that if two or three brigands could be got to seize in his camp the ape with the Madras on his head, all would be well. But they are mistaken. They may play the brigand, and seize me now; but then the town will be burning before night.”