“He is in great danger; indeed, indeed he is.”
“Where are the soldiers?” asked Euphrosyne. “Do send for them directly: and ask him to lock himself up in the safest place till they come.”
“Tell me what you mean, and then—”
“I think he is in danger, now the white rulers are gone, from the people of my colour,” said Afra: “and I fear, this very night.”
“Do you mean that they intend to murder him?”
“Perhaps so. Perhaps to seize him, and send him to Rigaud;—and that will be only a slower murder.”
“But how—”
“I will tell you. Euphrosyne and I sat rather late behind the jalousies, in the dark, to see the people bring in flowers and fruit from the country for the morning. I saw many mulattoes in the walk; but none of them had fruit or flowers. I watched them. I know their ways, their countenances, and their gestures. I saw they were gloomy and angry; and I found out that it is with L’Ouverture. They were plotting mischief, I am certain.”
“But why so suddenly?—why to-night?”
“So we thought at first; and we went to rest, intending to tell L’Ouverture to-morrow. But the more we thought and talked about it, the more uneasy we grew. We were afraid to go to sleep without telling some one in this wing; so we stole along the corridors in the dark, and saw that there was a light in this library, and ventured to look in, hoping it might be L’Ouverture himself.”