Toussaint stretched out his hand for the sword, which he immediately assumed instead of the one he wore, observing that this sword, like that which he had now laid aside, should be employed in loyal service to the republic. As he took no notice of the embroidered dress, it was conveyed away.
“Not only in the hall of government,” resumed Michel—“but throughout all Europe, is your name ringing to the skies. A eulogium has been delivered at the Council of Ancients—”
“And an oration before the governors of the Military Schools,” added Hédouville.
“And from Paris,” said Pascal, “your reputation has spread along the shores of the Rhine, and as far north as Saint Petersburg; and in the south, even to Rome.”
Toussaint’s ear caught a low laugh of delight from the piazza, which he thought fit alone for a husband’s ear, and therefore hoped that no one else had heard.
“Enough, gentlemen,” he said. “Measuring together my deeds and this applause, I understand the truth. This applause is in fact given to the powers of the negro race; and not to myself as a soldier or a man. It belongs not, therefore, to me. For my personal support, one line of a letter, one word of message, from the chief of our common country, would be worth the applause of Europe, of which you speak.”
Monsieur Petion produced a sealed packet, which he delivered; and this seemed to remind General Vincent that he had one too. Toussaint was unable to refrain from tearing open first one, and then the other, in the intense hope of receiving some acknowledgment, some greeting from the “brother in destiny and in glory,” who was the idol of his loyal heart. There was no word from Bonaparte among the first papers; and it was scarcely possible that there should be in the other packet; yet he could not keep his eye from it. Other eyes were watching from behind the jalousies. He cast a glance, a half smile that way; the consequence of which was that Aimée, forgetting the time, the deputation, the officers, the whole crowd, sprang into the room, and received the letter from Isaac, which was the only thing in all that room that she saw. She disappeared in another moment, followed, however, by General Vincent.
The father’s smile died away from the face of Toussaint, and his brow darkened, as he caught at a glance the contents of the proclamations contained in Pétion’s packet. A glance was enough. Before the eyes of the company had returned from the window, whither they had followed the apparition of Aimée, he had folded up the papers. His secretary’s hand was ready to receive them: but Toussaint put them into his bosom.
“Those proclamations,” said Hédouville, rising from the sofa, and standing by Toussaint’s side, “you will immediately publish. You will immediately exhibit on your colours the words imposed, ‘Brave blacks, remember that the French people alone recognise your freedom, and the legality of your rights!’”
As the commissary spoke these, words aloud, he looked round upon the assembled blacks, who, in their turn, all fixed their eyes upon their chief. Toussaint merely replied that he would give his best attention to all communications from the government of France.