In an inconceivably short time, they were at their own door. Pierre looked into the carriage, felt his master’s wrist and heart, spoke softly to Prince, and they drove on again—only past the corner—only to the gate of the convent.
When it was opened, Pierre appeared at the carriage door. “Now, Mademoiselle,” he said. He half pulled, half lifted her over the crushed fruit and flowers that were in her way—glanced in her face, to see whether she had observed that the body fell behind her—carried her in, and gave her, passive and stupified, into the arms of two nuns. Seeing the abbess standing behind, he took off his hat, and would have said something; but his lips quivered, and he could not.
“I will,” said the lady’s gentle voice, answering to his thought. “My young daughter shall be cherished here.”
Chapter Twenty Two.
A Lover’s Love.
This new violence had for its object the few whites who were rash and weak enough to insist on the terms of Hédouville’s intended proclamation, instead of abiding by that of L’Ouverture. The cultivators on the estates of these whites left work, rather than be reduced to a condition of virtual slavery. Wandering from plantation to plantation, idle and discontented, they drew to themselves others who, from any cause, were also idle and discontented. They exasperated each other with tales, old and new, of the tyranny of the whites. Still, further mischief might have been prevented by due vigilance and firmness on the part of him in whose charge the town and district of Cap Français now lay. Stories, however, passed from mouth to mouth respecting General Moyse—anecdotes of the words he had dropped in dislike of the whites—of the prophecies he had uttered of more violence before the old masters would be taught their new place—rumours like these spread, till the gathering mob at length turned their faces towards the town, as if to try how far they might go. They went as far as the gates, having murdered some few of the obnoxious masters, either in their own houses, or, as in the case of Monsieur Revel, where they happened to meet them.
On the Haut-du-Cap they encountered General Moyse coming out against them with soldiery. At first he looked fierce; and the insurgents began to think each of getting away as he best might. But in a few moments, no one seemed to know how or why, the aspect of affairs changed. There was an air of irresolution about the Commander. It was plain that he was not really disposed to be severe—that he had no deadly intentions towards those he came to meet. His black troops caught his mood. Some of the inhabitants of the town, who wore on the watch with glasses from the gates, from the churches, and from the roofs of houses, afterwards testified to there having been a shaking of hands, and other amicable gestures. They testified that the insurgents crowded round General Moyse, and gave, at one time cheers, at another time groans, evidently on a signal from him. No prisoners were made—there was not a shot fired. The General and his soldiers returned into the town, and even into their quarters, protesting that no further mischief would happen, but the insurgents remained on the heights till daylight; and the inhabitants, feeling themselves wholly unprotected, sent off expresses to the Commander-in-Chief, and watched, with arms loaded, till he, or one of his more trustworthy Generals, should arrive. These expresses were stopped and turned back, by order of General Moyse, who ridiculed the idea of further danger, and required the inhabitants to be satisfied with his assurances of protection. Fortunately, however, one or two messengers who had been sent off a few hours before, on the first alarm, had reached their destination, while General Moyse was yet on the Haut-du-Cap.
The first relief to the anxious watchers was on seeing the heights gradually cleared at sunrise. The next was the news that L’Ouverture was entering the town, followed by the ringleaders from Limbé, whom he was bringing in as prisoners. He had proceeded directly to the scene of insurrection, where the leaders of the mob were delivered up to him at his first bidding. It now remained to be seen what he would do with those, within the town, high or low in office, who were regarded by the inhabitants as accessories.