“Make yourself happy with your train,” said Toussaint, as he seized the wretch by the collar, hurled him back among the grenadiers, and kicked him over as he lay, introducing great disorder into the formal arrangements of that dignified guard.
This would have been the last moment of Toussaint, if General Brunet had not drawn his sword, and commanded every one to stand back. His orders, he said, were to deliver his prisoner alive.
“Come, my love,” said Toussaint to Madame L’Ouverture. “We are to sleep on board a frigate this night. Come. Génifrède! We may sleep in peace. General Brunet will hardly be able to digest your hospitality, my Margot; but you may sleep. Who else?” he asked, as he looked round upon his trembling household.
“We are following,” said Monsieur Pascal, who had his wife and Euphrosyne on either arm.
“Pardon me,” said General Brunet. “Our orders extend only to General Toussaint and his family. You must remain. Reverend father,” he said to Father Laxabon, “you will remain also—to comfort any friends of General Toussaint whom you may be able to meet with to-morrow. They will be all inconsolable, no doubt.”
Monsieur Coasson whispered to the admiral, who said, in consequence, bowing to Euphrosyne—
“I can answer for this young lady being a welcome guest to Madame Leclerc. If she will afford to a countryman the pleasure and honour of conveying her, it will give him joy to introduce her to a society worthy of her.”
“I do not wish to see Madame Leclerc,” said Euphrosyne, speaking with surprising calmness, though her cheek was white as ashes. “I wish to be wherever I may best testify my attachment to these my honoured friends, in the day of their undeserved adversity.”
She looked from Monsieur Pascal to L’Ouverture.
“Stay with those who can be your guardians,” said Toussaint.