I mechanically took the journal from the hand of the waiter, but without either the design or inclination to read it. Mechanically my eyes wandered over its broad-sheet—scarce heeding the contents.
All at once, the heading of an advertisement fixed my gaze and my attention. It was on the “French side” of the paper.
“Annoncement.”
“Vente importante des Nègres!” Yes—it was they. The announcement was no surprise to me. I expected as much.
I turned to the translation on the reverse page, in order to comprehend it more clearly. There it was in all its broad black meaning:—
“Important Sale of Negroes!” I read on:—“Estate in Bankruptcy. Plantation Besançon!”
“Poor Eugénie!”
Farther:—
“Forty able-bodied field-hands, of different ages. Several first-rate domestic servants, coachman, cooks, chamber-maids, wagon-drivers. A number of likely mulatto boys and girls, from ten to twenty,” etcetera, etcetera.
The list followed in extenso. I read—