“My poor Euphrosyne, what will you do?” exclaimed Afra. “This is Euphrosyne Revel,” she continued to Toussaint; “and—”
“Revel!” he said. “Have not you an aged relative in this town, my dear?”
“In that room,” hastily answered Afra. “He is very old, and much alarmed to-day; and he cannot believe that he and Euphrosyne are safe, even here. If you will only assure Euphrosyne that there is no danger—if she could tell him that you say so—”
“I will tell him myself,” said Toussaint. “He is in that apartment, you say?”
“Oh! but please your Excellency,” exclaimed Afra, “he may not like—he may not wish—Euphrosyne is as much devoted to you as we are, but—”
Toussaint was well aware that Monsieur Revel might not like, would not wish, to see him, or any black. Among all the hatreds which had deformed the colony, none more fierce had existed than that between Monsieur Revel and the negro race. He had been a cruel master; hence his incessant terrors now. He had been marked out for vengeance at the time of the revolution, and his family had perished for his crimes; and hence the detestation in which, as the survivor of these victims, he was regarded by most who knew the story. Euphrosyne knew nothing of it; nor did her young companion. There was no one to tell them uselessly so painful a tale; and there was nothing in Monsieur Revel’s present conduct to awaken a suspicion of the truth. He rarely saw a black: and the tenderness which lies in some corner of the hardest hearts was by him lavished upon his only remaining descendant. Little did she suppose now, how much better her grandfather was known by Toussaint than by herself.
“Trust me!” said Toussaint, smiling. “I will not annoy Monsieur Revel. I will merely reassure him, and tell him a little good news; and then leave him to his repose.”
“Yes, Afra,” interposed Euphrosyne. “Oh yes, please your Excellency, do go! I will tell him you are coming.”
She flew along the corridor, and, with joyous smiles, prepared Monsieur Revel for some great honour and pleasure, when Toussaint entered, and bowed low, as it had ever been his custom to do before grey hairs.
“I come,” said he to the old man, who seemed at a loss whether to rise or not, but who would not ask his visitor to sit down, “I come to encourage you to dismiss all fears. By the resolution of the Commissary to sail for France this day all further disputes are obviated. We have strong hopes that peace will not be disturbed.”