“Perhaps we shall hear, some day. To be sure, he had to carry a good many people away with him.”
“Did many whites go with him?”
“I do not know how many whites. They say fifteen hundred went altogether; but many of these were mulattoes; and some few blacks, who went for a frolic, and will come back again when they have seen France.”
“Strange doings! Strange doings!” sighed the old man.
“And we shall have some glorious doings to-morrow, grandpapa. There was a little bustle and struggle when the Commissary went away—I am glad you were asleep, and did not hear it. There will be no more—there will be no riot now, everybody says—the Commander-in-chief has behaved so finely, and the people are so fond of him. The danger is all over; and the town’s-people have begged him—the Deliverer, as they call him—to attend the great church to-morrow, in state. Te Deum will be sung in all the churches, and it is to be a great fête-day. Are you not pleased?”
“Not at all pleased that Hédouville is gone, and fifteen hundred of his friends, and all the shipping.”
“Well, but we are all at peace now, and everybody satisfied.”
“Why are we here, then? Why am I not at home?”
“We will go home in a day or two. The streets will be noisy to-night; and besides, one removal is enough for one day. Afra will follow her father after to-morrow—he is gone, you know, this morning—”
“Whose guest am I, then? If I am the guest of the negro Toussaint—”