“I have; and your news only confirms my thought.”
“You will not attempt to defend the plantation?”
“What would my single arm do? It would provoke revenge which might otherwise sleep.”
“True. Let the estate be deserted, and the gates and doors left wide, and no mischief may be done. Will you join us then?”
“Join you! no! Not till your loyalty is free from stain. Not while you fight for your king with a cruelty from which your king would recoil.”
“You will wait,” said Jean, sarcastically, “till we have conquered the colony for the king. That done you will avow your loyalty.”
“Such is not my purpose, Jean,” replied Toussaint, quietly. “You have called me your friend; but you understand me no more than if I were your enemy. I will help to conquer the colony for the king; but it shall be to restore to him its lands as the King of kings gave them to him—not ravaged and soaked in blood, but redeemed with care, to be made fair and fruitful, as held in trust for him. I shall join the Spaniards, and fight for my king with my king’s allies.”
Jean was silent, evidently struck with the thought. If he had been troubled with speculations as to what he should do with his undisciplined, half-savage forces, after the whites should have been driven to entrench themselves in the towns, it is possible that this idea of crossing the Spanish line, and putting himself and his people under the command of these allies, might be a welcome relief to his perplexity.
“And your family,” said he: “will the Spaniards receive our women and children into their camp?”
“I shall not ask them. I have a refuge in view for my family.”