But the Obi had merged the physician in the sorcerer, and thrusting him roughly on one side continued—
“Listen, my men. If the seven lines on the forehead are slight, twisted, and lightly marked, they announce a short life. He who has between his eyebrows on the line of the moon the figure of two crossed arrows will be killed in battle. If the line of life which intersects the hand has a cross at its junction it foretells death on the scaffold, and here I must tell you, my brethren,” said the Obi, interrupting himself, “that one of the bravest defenders of our liberties, Bouckmann, has all these fatal marks.”
At these words all the negroes held their breath, and gazed on the impostor with glances of stupid admiration.
“Only,” continued the Obi, “I cannot reconcile the two opposing signs, death on the battle-field and also on the scaffold, and yet my science is infallible.”
He stopped and cast a meaning glance at Biassou, who whispered something to an officer, who at once quitted the cavern.
“A gaping mouth,” continued the Obi, turning on his audience a malicious glance, “a slouching carriage, and arms hanging down by the side, announces natural stupidity, emptiness, and want of reasoning powers.”
Biassou gave a sneer of delight; at that moment the aide-de-camp returned, bringing with him a negro covered with mud and dust, whose feet, wounded by the roots and flints, showed that he had just come off a long journey.
This was the messenger whose arrival Rigaud had announced. He held in one hand a letter, and in the other a document sealed with the design of a flaming heart. Round it was a monogram, composed of the letters M and N interlaced, no doubt intended as an emblem of the union of the free mulattos and the negro slaves. Underneath I could read this motto, “Prejudice conquered, the rod of iron broken, long live the king!” This document was a safe conduct given by Jean François.
The messenger handed his letter to Biassou, who hastily tore it open and perused the contents, then with an appearance of deep grief he exclaimed, “My brothers!” All bowed respectfully.
“My brothers, this is a despatch to Jean Biassou, generalissimo of the conquered states, Brigadier-General of His Catholic Majesty, from Jean François, Grand Admiral of France, Lieutenant-General of the army of the King of Spain and the Indies.