“I see yet more plainly the disadvantages, unfit as I am. I cannot accept it.”
“Very well. While you are writing, I will ascertain how the provisioning of the ships goes on, and will give you as much time as possible. But there is not a moment to lose. I will return presently to sign.”
Toussaint walked up and down the corridor, receiving reports, and issuing orders every moment. He found that the harbour was covered with boats carrying out hogs, fowls, vegetables, and water, according to his orders: but no baggage had been sent down from the quarters of the French officials, though porters had been waiting for two hours past. Scouts had come in, with news of the approach of the insurgents. This information was communicated to Hédouville, with a hint that the ships were nearly provisioned; but no answer was returned. Moyse sent word that the preparations in the town were nearly complete, and the spirit of the inhabitants improving every hour, if only the Commissary would make haste and be gone. Toussaint found the moment was coming for him to give the word to fire the alarm gun.
“Are the despatches nearly ready?” he asked of Pascal, entering the secretary’s apartment.
“Quite ready for signature,” replied Pascal, drying the ink of the last sheet.
“Excellent!” cried Toussaint, when he had read them. “True and clear!”
He signed and sealed them, and introduced the officer who was to be responsible for their delivery, assuring him that he would be welcome back to the honours which would follow the faithful discharge of his trust. He did not forget to request Monsieur Pascal to go to rest. There might be no rest for either of them this night.
As Euphrosyne sat beside Monsieur Revel, who was sleeping on a couch, after the fatigues of the morning, old Pierre beckoned her softly out, sending in Euphrosyne’s maid, and saying, as he shut the door, “She will stay with my master fill he wakes. Mademoiselle Afra has sent for you, mademoiselle, to see from the upper gallery what is going on. The harbour is so crowded with boats, that they can hardly move; and it is time they were moving pretty fast; for the battle is beginning at the other end of the town; and the Commissary is not off yet, though the gun was fired half-an-hour since. You heard the gun, mademoiselle?”
“Yes. I am glad it was only a signal. You are sure it was only a signal?”
“So they say everywhere. This is the way, mademoiselle. Monsieur Pascal is up here—the secretary, you know—and Mademoiselle Raymond, and her gouvernante, and several more, who have nothing to do with the fighting.”