“And you say there is no personal feeling—no offence between us?”
“If any, my lord, I alone am the offender. Will you be pleased to—”
“Oh, yes, I will breakfast; and was never more ready. Monsieur Papalier, our morning mass has kept you waiting, I fear.”
Papalier seated himself, but was near starting up again when he saw his negro host preparing to take his place between his two quests, Papalier had never yet sat at table with a negro, and his impulse was to resent the necessity; but a stern look from the General warned him to submit quietly to the usages of the new state of society which he had remained to witness; and he sat through the meal, joining occasionally in the conversation, which, for his sake, was kept clear of subjects which might annoy him.
As soon as the servants, after producing pen, ink, and paper, had withdrawn, the General wrote a safe-conduct, and delivered it to Monsieur Papalier, with an intimation that an attendant should be ready to guide him to the nearest port, at his earliest convenience. Papalier understood this as it was meant—as a hint that there must be no delay. He declared, therefore, his wish to depart, as soon as the heat of the day should decline.
“And now, my lord—,” said Toussaint, “Yes, now for the explanation of this fancy of not receiving kindness from your best friends. Let us hear.”
“I have this morning, my lord, despatched letters to Don Joachim Garcia, at Saint Domingo—”
“You are in communication with the Colonial Government; and not through me! What can this mean?”
“And here, my lord, are exact copies of my letters, which I request the favour of you to read, and, if I may be permitted to say so, without haste or prejudice—though, in this case, it is much to ask.”
Toussaint disappeared in the inner apartment; but not before he saw a smile on Papalier’s face—a smile which told of amusement at the idea of a negro sending dispatches of any importance to the head of the government of the Spanish colony.