Afra entered quickly to say farewell; and, lifting her veil hastily, she said, “Kiss me, and let me go. L’Ouverture says he shall take us into church himself, as my father is not here. Mademoiselle and I are going with Madame Ducie and her daughters; and L’Ouverture will wait for us at the church, and lead us in. Poor Euphrosyne! I wish you were going!”
“I never cared for anything half so much. Will you really walk all through the church to your seat on his arm? And I should have been on the other side, if grandpapa would have let me go! Do not stay, dear. Tell me all about it when you come back.”
“I must be gone. There will not be standing-room for one person to spare. You know every one of my colour in Cap is ordered to be in the church as the hour strikes. Farewell.”
Euphrosyne had thought she had heard the crier publish this order; and presently Pierre brought her the handbill to the same effect, which was passing from hand to hand. If Euphrosyne and Pierre speculated curiously on what this order might mean, what must have been the anxiety of the mulattoes! Most of them had known of the conspiracy of the day before: all had now heard of its failure. All were anxious to attend the church, as staying away would amount to a confession of disloyalty; but there was not one of them who did not go with fear and trembling, wishing that the day was over, though dreading what it might bring forth.
As Afra, and the ladies who attended her, drew near the great church, they found the streets absolutely empty. Loyalty, and the desire to appear loyal, had carried the entire population to the churches; and the houses appeared deserted by all but an aged or sick person, here and there, who looked forth upon the activity he could not share. In the centre of the area before the church were piled the arms of the garrison and of Toussaint’s troops; and on the top of the pile of arms lay the fetters which had just been removed from the mulatto conspirators. L’Ouverture, in giving his orders to this effect, had said that arms should be laid aside in the act of thanksgiving for peace; and bonds, while giving thanks for liberty. When, at length, he gave the signal for the military to enter the church after him, some of the officers looked earnestly to him for orders that a guard might be left with the arms. He understood their thoughts, and replied, with a smile:—
“Let every one enter to worship: the arms are safe. There is no one near who would employ them against us.”
Afra’s heart beat, and she did not forget Euphrosyne, as she was led to her seat by L’Ouverture, at whose entrance there was a half-suppressed murmur throughout the vast congregation—a murmur which sank into silence at the first breathing of solemn music from the choir. The signs of gratulation for the escape of the Deliverer, first heard in the streets, and now witnessed amidst the worshipping crowd, were too much for the self-command of the conspirators. Their attitude became every moment more downcast—their countenances more sullen and wretched. They had a strong impression that their execution was to seal the thanksgivings of this day; and in every allusion to deliverance from danger, privy conspiracy, and rebellion, they believed that they read their own doom. A tempting idea of escape now and then crossed the imagination of one or other of them. As they sat with their heads upon their breasts, the thought that they were unfettered, and their guards unarmed, made them eager to glance around, and see if there was hope; but whenever they raised their eyes, and whichever way they looked, they encountered eyes seemingly as numerous as the stars of heaven—as many, as penetrating, but not so calm. Eyes which shone with love of L’Ouverture could not look benignly on those who would have kidnapped or murdered him. Nor did the eleven meet with any visible sympathy from the multitude of their own colour who were present. The greater number looked studiously another way, in order to appear to have no connection with them; and the countenances which were turned towards them wore a strong expression of displeasure, as towards men who had ruined the last hopes of a cause. The wretched men gave themselves up, at length, to counting the minutes till the service should be over, and they should be once more retired from this myriad of eyes, when they were roused by a singular suspension of the service.
After the prayer for divine pardon, ensuing upon mutual forgiveness, L’Ouverture arose from his knees, stepped from his place, and stood before the altar. He spoke, while all rose to hear.
“In this place,” said he, “brethren should be reconciled, or their offering of thanksgiving will not be pure. Will all who feel enmity towards me come to this holy spot, and exchange forgiveness?”
He looked towards the conspirators, who gazed upon him with eager eyes, but did not move. They could not believe that tills appeal was intended for them, till he beckoned to them. They advanced with hesitating steps—first one or two—then several—then all; and as they drew nearer they rushed upon him, some kissing his hand, others kneeling and embracing his knees. Bidding these arise, he said gently, but in a voice so penetrating that it was heard in the farthest recess of the building, “I must have offended you, since you have conspired against me; and you are very guilty towards me and your country. May He who looks down with pity on the shameful strifes of men, bear witness to our hearty forgiveness of each other! Can you with truth say Amen?—If not yet with truth, say it not till you have heard me.”