“I no longer call you boys; for the choice of this hour makes you men. The Captain-General insists that you go from me. He has no right to do so. Neither have I a right to bid you stay. Hear, and decide for yourselves.—The cause of the blacks is not so promising as it appeared last night. News has arrived, from various quarters, of defeat and defection. Our struggle for our liberties will be fierce and long. It will never be relinquished; and my own conviction is, that the cause of the blacks will finally prevail; that Saint Domingo will never more belong to France. The ruler of France has been a guardian to you—an indulgent guardian. I do not ask you to tight against him.”
The faces of both the young men showed strong and joyful emotion; but it was not the same emotion in them both.
“Decide according to your reason and your hearts, my children, whether to go or stay; remembering the importance of your choice.” Putting a hand on the shoulder of each, he said impressively, “Go to the Captain-General, or remain with me. Whichever you do, I shall always equally love and cherish you.”
Margot looked upon her sons, as if awaiting from them life or death. Aimée’s face was still hidden in her handkerchief. She had nothing to learn of her brother’s inclinations.
Isaac spoke before Placide could open his lips.
“We knew, father,” he said, “that your love and your rare liberality—that liberality which gave us our French education—would not fail now. And this it is that persuades me that this quarrel cannot proceed to extremities—that it will not be necessary for your sons to take any part, as you propose. When Placide and I think of you—your love of peace, your loyalty, and your admiration of Bonaparte; and then, when we think of Bonaparte—his astonishment at what you have done in the colony, and the terms in which he always spoke of you to us—when we consider how you two are fitted to appreciate each other, we cannot believe but that the Captain-General and you will soon be acting in harmony, for the good of both races. But for this assurance, we could hardly have courage to return.”
“Speak for yourself alone, Isaac,” said his brother.
“Well, then: I say for myself, that, but for this certainly, it would almost break my heart to leave you so soon again, though to go at present no further off than Tortuga. But I am quite confident that there will soon be perfect freedom of intercourse among all who are on the island.”
“You return with me?” asked Monsieur Coasson.
“Certainly, as my father gives me my choice. I feel myself bound, in honour and gratitude, to return, instead of appearing to escape, at the very first opportunity, from those with whom I can never quarrel. Returning to Leclerc, under his conditional orders, can never be considered a declaration against my father: while remaining here, against Leclerc’s orders, is an undeniable declaration against Bonaparte and France—a declaration which I never will make.”