“It is not for me to forgive, Thérèse, whom you have never offended. God has forgiven, I trust, your young years of sin. You will atone (will you not?) by the purity of your life—by watching over others, lest they suffer as you have done. You will guard the minds of my young daughters: will you not? You will thank God through my Génifrède, my Aimée?”
“I will, I will,” she eagerly cried, lifting up her face, bright through her tears. “Indeed my heart will be pure—longs to be pure.”
“I know it, Thérèse,” said Toussaint. “I have always believed it, and I now know it.”
He turned to Jacques and said—
“You declare yourself to be under my command?”
“Yes, Toussaint; you are my general.”
“Well, then, I appoint you to the duty of remaining here, with a troop, to guard my family (who are coming in a few hours), and this estate. I have some hopes of doing what I want at Cap without striking a blow; and you will be better here. You hate the whites too much to like my warfare. Farewell, Thérèse! Jacques, follow me, to receive your troop.”