“I would have none be afraid while God reigns, Margot. May you ever say that you will not fear! The blessing of God may be on us now, love; but it was never more so than when we went home to our hut at Breda. When I lay under the trees at noon, taking care of the cattle, how many things I used to think of to say to you when I came home!”
“And so did I, as I kneeled at my washing by the brook-side, and you were driving Monsieur Bayou, twenty miles off, and were expected home in the evening. How much there was to say at the end of those days!”
“It was not for ourselves then, Margot, that we have been raised to what we are. We were as happy drawing water in the wood, and gathering plantains in the negro-grounds, as we have ever been in these shrubberies. We were as merry in that single room at Breda as in this mansion, or in our palace. It is not for our own sakes that we have been so raised.”
“It is pleasant for our children.”
“It is. And it is good for our race. It is to make us their servants. Oh! Margot, if ever you find a thought of pride stirring at your heart, remember that if the blacks were less ignorant and more wise, it would not matter whether we lived as we used to do, or as we live now. It is because we negroes are vain and corrupted, that show and state are necessary: and the sight of our show and state should, therefore, humble us.”
“I am sure you are not fond of show and state. You eat and drink, and wait upon yourself, as you did at Breda; and your uniform is the only fine dress you like to wear. I am sure you had rather have no court.”
“Very true. I submit to such state as we have about us, for the sake of the negroes who need it. To me it is a sacrifice; but, Margot, we must make sacrifices—perhaps some which you may little dream of, while looking round upon our possessions, and our rank, and our children, worshipped as they are. We must carry the same spirit of sacrifice into all our acts; and be ready to suffer, and perhaps to fall, for the sake of the blacks. The less pride now, Margot, the less shame and sorrow then!”
“I wish not to be proud,” said Margot, trembling—“I pray that I may not be proud; but it is difficult—Hark! there is a footstep! Let us turn into this alley.”
“Nay,” said Toussaint; “it is Monsieur Pascal. No doubt I am wanted.”
“For ever wanted!” exclaimed Margot. “No peace!”