Stone That the Builder Refused - Madison Smartt Bell [105]
“Well,” said Dormoy, lowering his gaze. “No matter. In connection with your presence here, my friend sometimes receives copies of correspondence addressed to the Consulate, or to the Minister of Marine.”
He was unfolding a small square of paper as he spoke. Toussaint’s attention bore down on the folded sheet. The aperture in his fever had regained its boundary.
“This from the Captain-General Leclerc,” Dormoy said. “It is recent. I find his sentiment quite extraordinary! It struck me so that I copied it out.”
“Do let me hear it,” Toussaint said.
Dormoy squinted at the paper. “We must destroy all the mountain Negroes, men and women, sparing only children under twelve years of age. We must destroy half the Negroes of the plains, and not allow in the colony a single man who has ever worn an epaulette. Without these measures, the colony will never be at peace.”
Dormoy folded the paper, pulling the crease between his finger as he glanced up. “Such a carnage!” he said. “Does one suppose he means to undertake it?”
“He may undertake it, if he will,” Toussaint said. “To carry it out will not be possible.”
“No,” said Dormoy. “No, I rather think the same.” He put the pince-nez into his pocket. Still, for the first time since he had entered, he looked at Toussaint with a certain gravity. “If you are right, then—”
Before he could complete the sentence, the cell door came flying open. There was Baille, returned, with an unaccustomed number of the guard—half a dozen of them.
“What is the meaning of this?” he shouted. “What do you—” When Baille looked at Dormoy, Toussaint could tell that the two men were acquainted at least to some degree, though Baille was in no mood to acknowledge it now.
“Arrest that man!” he bellowed, thrusting his arm at Dormoy. Two guards descended on Dormoy and, gripping him by the armpits, began to hustle him from the cell. Dormoy’s head spun round like an owl’s, questing for his satchel and his calipers. “Wait!” he said. “I—My—” A third guard had taken up his effects and was following. “Ow!” Dormoy went on squeaking. “Gently, friend, I am—”
The slam of the corridor door cut off his querulous voice. Baille looked down at Toussaint. “Do you mean to murder me?” he said.
Toussaint raised his hands to massage his aching temples. “That question might be better put by me to you.”
Baille colored, coughed, and bowed out of the cell. Snap of the lock, shuffle and splash of boots retreating. Then silence.
The door had never looked so solid. It did not matter. With the force of the fever at his disposal, Toussaint might shrug himself out of his skin and travel anywhere at all, free and fast as a loup-garou. Already he could feel the walls dissolving, and as he began to drift, Dormoy’s broken sentence mended itself in his mind: Then they have lost, and you have won.
Part Two
RAVINE À COULEUVRE
February 1802
Je pensai que la conduite du général Leclerc était bien contraire aux intentions du gouvernement, puisque le premier consul, dans sa lettre, promettait la paix, tandis que lui, il faisait la guerre. Je vis qu’au lieu de chercher à arrêter le mal, il ne faisait que l’augmenter. < —Mémoires du Général Toussaint Louverture I thought that the conduct of General Leclerc was much contrary to the intentions of the government, since the First Consul, in his letter, promised peace, while he, Leclerc, made war. I saw that instead of seeking to stop the evil, he did nothing but increase it. “In maintaining such a conduct,” I said to myself, “Does he not fear to be blamed by his government? Can he hope to be approved by the First