“Fear nothing, Monsieur Papalier,” said Toussaint; “General Hermona has engaged to listen to my plea for justice. My lord, Monsieur Papalier was amicably received by your lordship on crossing the frontier, and, on the strength of your welcome, has remained on the island till too late to escape, without your especial protection, a fate he dreads.”
“You mean being delivered up as a republican?”
“Into the hands of my own negroes, my lord,” said Papalier, bitterly. “That is the fate secretly designed for any unfortunate planter who may yet have survived the recent troubles over the frontier.”
“But how can I protect you? The arrangement is none of mine: I cannot interfere with it.”
“Only by forgetting in this single instance the point of time at which we have arrived, and furnishing me with a pass which shall enable me to sail for Europe, as I acknowledge I ought to have done long ago.”
“So this is the act of justice you asked from me, Toussaint. Why did you not say favour? I shall do it with much more pleasure as a slight favour to one whom I strongly regard. You shall have your safe-conduct, Monsieur Papalier. In the meantime—”
And he looked towards the steaming chocolate and the piles of fruit on the table, as if his appetite were growing urgent.
“One word more, my lord, before offering you my welcome to my table,” said Toussaint. “I beseech you to consider the granting this pass as an act of justice, or of anything rather than favour to me. Yesterday, I would have accepted a hundred favours from you: to-day, with equal respect, I must refuse even one. I pledge myself to tell you why before you rise from table, to which I now invite you.”
“I do not understand all this, Toussaint.”
“I have pledged myself to explain.”