“Everybody who understands, thinks all that the Commander-in-chief does quite right,” said Madame, with so much of her old tone and manner as made Bayou ready to laugh. He turned to Paul, saying—
“May I ask if you are the brother who used to reside on the northern coast—if I remember right?”
“I am. I am Paul—Paul L’Ouverture.” He sighed as he added, “I do not live on the northern coast now. I am going to live on the southern coast—in a palace, instead of my old hut.”
“Monsieur Bayou will see—Monsieur Bayou will hear,” interrupted Madame, “if he will stay out the levée. You will not leave us to-day, Monsieur Bayou?”
Monsieur Bayou bowed. He then asked if he had the pleasure of any acquaintance with the other lady, who had not once turned round since he arrived. Thérèse had indeed sat with her face concealed for some time past.
“Do not ask her,” said Aimée, eagerly, in a low voice. “We do not speak to her of old times. She is Madame Dessalines.”
“The lady of General Dessalines,” said Madame. “Shall I introduce you?”
She called to Thérèse. Thérèse just turned round to notice the introduction, when her attention was called another way by two officers, who brought her some message from Toussaint. That one glance perplexed Monsieur Bayou as much as anything he had seen. That beautiful face and form were not new to him; but he had only a confused impression as to where and when he had seen them. He perceived, however, that he was not to ask. He followed her with his eyes as she rose from her low seat, and placed herself close by one of the open jalousies, so as to hear what passed within.
“It is the English deputation,” said Paul. “Hear what my brother will say.”
“What will become of them?” said Madame. “I do not know what would become of me if my husband were ever as angry with me as I know he is with them.”