“The economist is not economical of his words,” observed Rigaud, with his bland and cunning smile.
“But you, eternal talker,” cried Biassou, “tell me, have I any kingdoms or states to govern?”
“Not yet perhaps, great man, but they will come; and besides, my knowledge descends to all the useful details which are comprised in the interior economy of an army.”
The general again interrupted him: “I have nothing to do with the interior economy of the army, I command it.”
“Good,” replied the citizen; “you shall be the commander, I will be the commissary; I have much special knowledge as to the increase of cattle——”
“Do you think we are going to breed cattle?” cried Biassou, with his sardonic laugh. “No, my good fellow, we are content with eating them; when cattle become scarce in the French colony I shall cross the line of mountains on the frontier and take the Spanish sheep and oxen from the plains of Cotury, of La Vega, of St. Jago, and from the banks of the Yuna; if necessary I will go as far as the Island of Jamaica, and to the back of the mountain of Cibos, and from the mouths of the Neybe to those of Santo Domingo; besides, I should be glad to punish those infernal Spanish planters for giving up Ogé to the French. You see I am not uneasy as regards provisions, and so have no need of your knowledge.”
This open declaration rather disconcerted the poor economist; he made, however, one more effort for safety. “My studies,” said he, “have not been limited to the reproduction of cattle, I am acquainted with other special branches of knowledge that may be very useful to you; I can show you the method of manufacturing pitch and working coal mines.”
“What do I care for that!” exclaimed Biassou. “When I want charcoal I burn a few leagues of forest.”
“I can tell you the proper kinds of wood to use for shipbuilding—the chicarm and the sabicca for the keels, the yabas for the knees, the medlars for the framework, the hacotnas, the gaïacs, the cedars, the acomas——”
“Que te lleven todos los demonios de los diez-y-siete infernos!” (“May the devils of the thirty-seven hells fly away with you!”), cried Biassou, boiling over with impatience.