“There is not a braver man in Europe, or the Indies either, than the First Consul.”
“Brave towards foes without and sufferings to come. But bravery gives no help against enemies harboured within, and evils fixed in the past. What will his bravery avail against the images of France corrupted, of Europe outraged, of the blacks betrayed and oppressed—of the godlike power which was put into his hands abused to the purposes of the devil!”
“But perhaps he would not view his affairs as you do.”
“Then would his bravery avail him no better. If he should be so blind as to see nothing higher and better than his own acts, then will he see no higher nor better hope than he has lost. Then will he suffer and die under the slow torment of personal mortifications and regrets.”
“You say you are sinking under your reverses. You say you are slowly dying.”
“I am. I shall die of the sickening and pining of sense and limb—of the wasting of bone and muscle. Day by day is my eye more dim, and my right arm more feeble. But I have never complained of evils that the bravery you speak of would not meet. Have I ever said that you have touched my soul?”
Rubaut saw the fire in his eye, glanced at his emaciated hand, and felt that this was true. He could bear the conversation no longer, now that no disclosures that could serve the First Consul seemed likely to be made.
“You are going?” said Toussaint.
“Yes. I looked in to-day because I am about to leave the fortress for a few days.”
“If you see the First Consul, tell him what I have now said; and add that if, like him, I had used my power for myself, he would have had a power over me which he has not now. I should not then have been here—nay, you must hear me—I should not then have been here, crushed beneath his hand; I should have been on the throne of Saint Domingo—flattered, as he is, by assurances of my glory and security—but crushed by a heavier weight than that of his hand; by his image, as that of one betrayed in my infidelity to his country and nation. Tell him this; tell him that I perish willingly, if this consequence of my fidelity to France may be a plea for justice to my race.”