Biassou chuckled.
“Good, and what punishment should be inflicted on the man who proposed it?”
The unfortunate C—— hesitated.
“What!” cried Biassou, “you hesitate! Are you, or are you not, the friend of the blacks?”
Of the two alternatives the wretched man chose the least threatening one, and seeing no hostile light in Biassou’s eyes, he answered in a low voice—
“The guilty person deserves death.”
“Well answered,” replied Biassou, calmly, throwing aside the tobacco that he had been chewing.
His assumed air of indifference had completely deceived the unfortunate lover of the negro race, and he made another effort to dissipate any suspicions which might have been engendered against him.
“No one,” cried he, “has a more ardent desire for your success than I. I correspond with Brissot and Pruneau de Pomme-Gouge in France, with Magaw in America, with Peter Paulus in Holland, with the Abbé Tamburini in Italy.” And he was continuing to unfold the same string of names which he had formerly repeated, but with a different motive, at the council held at M. de Blanchelande’s, when Biassou interrupted him.
“What do I care with whom you correspond! Tell me rather where are your granaries and store-houses, for my army has need of supplies; your plantation is doubtless a rich one, and your business must be lucrative since you correspond with so many merchants.”