“Assuredly we do.”
“They will soon learn whom they have to deal with in this outlaw,” said Madame. “I can tell you, my dears, that Rochambeau is drawing near us, and that there is likely soon to be a battle. Heigho!”
“Is that bad news or good?” asked Euphrosyne.
“My husband means it for good news, my dear—at least, if Maurepas arrives from the south as soon as Rochambeau from the north.”
“I wish Maurepas would come!” sighed Afra. Madame L’Ouverture went on—
“It has been a great mortification to my husband that there has been no fair battle yet. His people—those who are faithful—have had no opportunity of showing how they feel, and what they can do. The French have been busy spying, and bribing, and cajoling, and pretending to negotiate; and the one thing they will not do is fighting. But I tell you, my dears, the battle-day is coming on now. Heigho!”
There was a pause; after which Euphrosyne said—
“I suppose we shall hear the battle.”
There was another pause, during which Madame’s tears were dropping into her lap. Afra wondered how General Dessalines would bear to hear the firing from his chamber, so near, and be unable to help.
“That puts me in mind,” said Madame, rising hurriedly—“how could I forget? It was the very reason why my husband told me that Rochambeau was so near. We must prepare for the wounded, my dears. They will be sent up here—as many as the house will hold, and the tents which my husband is sending up. We must be making lint, my dears, and preparing bandages. My husband has provided simples, and Madame Dessalines will tell us—Oh dear! what was I about to forget all this!”