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Updated: June 19, 2025
How stands the name of Leclerc at this moment in France?" "Leclerc is dead," said Rubaut; repenting, the next moment, that he had said so much. Toussaint saw this by his countenance, and inquired no further. "He is dead! and twenty thousand Frenchmen with him, who might at this hour have been enjoying at home the natural wealth of my country, the fruits of our industry.
"Yes, sir; the wood in this corner, and the candle on the table just under your hand, sir." "Oh, ay, here. Put on some wood, and blow up a flame. Observe, we found his fire burning." "Yes, sir." They soon re-appeared in the courtyard, and announced the death of the prisoner. Rubaut ordered a messenger to be in readiness to ride to Pontarlier, by the time he should have written a letter.
It was strange to him he wondered at himself on finding his mind filled with a new enterprise with the idea of making a last appeal to Rubaut for freedom an appeal to his justice, not to his clemency. With the chill breeze, there had entered the tinkle of the cow-bell, and the voices of children singing.
Death by violence, however, did not come. He did not give over his concern for Mars Plaisir because he was glad of his absence. He inquired occasionally for the Commandant, hoping that, if he could see Rubaut, he might learn whether his servant was still a prisoner, and whether his release from his cell had been for freedom, or for a worse lot than he had left behind.
There was a call or two, and some singing, just after you went; but nothing since." "Hush! Listen!" They listened motionless for some time; but nothing was heard but the everlasting plash, which went on all around them. "Unbar the door, Bellines." He did so, and held the door wide for the Commandant to enter. Rubaut stalked in, and straight up to the straw bed.
In a few moments Toussaint heard the tramp of feet about the gate, and understood that the soldiers had been ordered back to their post. "The Commandant," the officer announced to his prisoners; and the Commandant Rubaut entered the dim passage. Toussaint formed his judgment of him, to a certain extent, in a moment.
Rubaut, eager to be busy till he could go, and to be gone as soon as possible, found fault with some long-deceased occupant of the cell, for having covered its arched ceiling with grotesque drawings in charcoal; and then with Bellines, for not having dried the floor. Truly the light gleamed over it as over a pond.
Rubaut continued: "The reason why we cannot have the pleasure of giving you the range of the fortress is, that the First Consul thinks it necessary to keep secret the place of your abode for the good of the colony, as he says.
Rubaut could remember no more concerning him in fact, had not thought of him again, from that day to the present. "And this is the kind of answer that you would give concerning me, if my sons should arrive hither in search of me some days after my grave had been closed?" "Come, come! no foreboding!" said Rubaut. "Foreboding is bad." "If my sons should present themselves " proceeded Toussaint
"The grave is warm compared with this." A glance of wretchedness from Mars Plaisir, seen in the torchlight, as Bellines passed on to the front, showed that the poor fellow's spirits, and perhaps some visions of a merry life among the soldiers, had melted already in the damps of this vault. Rubaut gave him a push, which showed that he was to follow the torch-bearer.
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