The old man was, indeed, lingering near, preferring the chance of a word from L’Ouverture even to supper and wine within. He was ready enough to tell his story:—that he lived as butler at General Dessalines’; and, that though master and servant had changed places, he liked the new times better than the old. He was treated with more respect now, by everybody, than when he was a negro tradesman, even though he then had a slave of his own. The place of butler suited him too. General Dessalines and his lady drank only water; and they left him to manage the wine-cellar just as he liked; except at the present time, when a dreadful quantity of wine was wanted for the convalescents. It frightened him to think how soon the cellar might be emptied, if they went on at this rate. Old Dessalines was glad he had come to Pongaudin to-day. He had not only seen L’Ouverture, but had heard from L’Ouverture’s own lips that General Dessalines’ cellars should never be quite empty while there was wine at Pongaudin.
When Toussaint resumed his seat under the tree, where the Pascals, Euphrosyne, Placide, and Denis remained (the rest having gone into the house with Thérèse), he found Denis discussing with Monsieur Pascal the principle and policy of nursing the sick who were hereafter to be mown down on the battlefield. Denis had been reminded that this was a time of peace, and that he was not authorised to anticipate more battlefields: and his reply had shown that he had no faith in this peace, but looked forward, like others of his colour, to August and its consequences. He was not contradicted here; and he went on to ask whether the Crusaders (his favourite warriors) nursed the wounded and sick heathens whom they found on their road, and in the cities they took.
“They were no Christians if they did not,” said Euphrosyne.
“It was a savage age,” observed Placide.
“Still they were the representatives of the Christianity of their day,” said Afra; “and Christianity requires us to do good to those who use us ill.”
“The Crusaders,” said Toussaint, “lived in the early days of that Christianity which is to endure as long as the race of man. Like others, they did their part in acting out one of its principles. That one was not love of enemies,—which yet remains for us.”
“I agree with you,” said Pascal. “There are many ways of warring for the Cross. Theirs was one; ours is another.”
“You always speak as if you were a black, Monsieur Pascal,” said Denis.
“I would fain be a negro in heart and temper, Denis, if what your father thinks of the vocation of negroes be true.”
“But about those ways of warring for the Cross!” inquired Afra.