“When were you twenty?”
To this question, which aroused in me all the recollection of my misery, I could not at first find words to reply. He repeated it imperiously.
“The day upon which Leogri was hung,” answered I.
An expression of rage passed over his face as he answered,
“It is twenty-three days since Leogri was executed. Frenchman, when you meet him this evening you may tell him from me that you lived twenty-four days longer than he did. I will spare you for to-day, I wish you to tell him of the liberty that his brethren have gained, and what you have seen at the headquarters of General Jean Biassou.”
Then he ordered me to sit down in one corner between two of his guards, and with a motion of his hand to some of his men, who wore the uniform of aide-de-camps, he said,
“Let the assembly be sounded, that we may inspect the whole of our troops; and you, your Reverence,” he added, turning to the Obi, “put on your priestly vestments, and perform for our army the holy sacrament of the Mass.”
The Obi rose, bowed profoundly, and whispered a word or two in the general’s ear.
“What,” cried the latter, “no altar! but never mind, the good Giu has no need of a magnificent temple for His worship. Gideon and Joshua adored Him before masses of rock, let us do as they did; all that is required is that the hearts should be true. No altar, you say—why not make one of that great chest of sugar which we took yesterday from Dubussion’s house?”
This suggestion of Biassou was promptly carried into execution. In an instant the interior of the cave was arranged for a burlesque of the divine ceremony. A pyx and a monstrance stolen from the parish church of Acul were promptly produced (the very church in which my nuptials with Marie had been celebrated, and where we had received heaven’s blessing which had so soon changed to a curse).