Not more sensitive to the breath of the evening air is the tender mimosa, than is Toussaint to the suspicion of danger—he who has suffered and hoped so many years, for the liberty and improvement of the blacks. He who has done so much for his own race and for the whites, who has shown mercy, when others were blood-thirsty, who has steadily looked to a great end, and has had faith that, in all his good purposes and hopes, he should be sustained by that generous nation, which had poured out its blood like water for freedom—he now hears, with dismay, that that great nation had resolved on something, and the whites said to restore him and his race to slavery; that all the blood, and toil, and suffering, were to be as nothing, and that, directed by the greatest captain of the age, these soldiers and these ships were approaching for his destruction. Toussaint stands on the heights which overlook the wide and beautiful bay of Samana[57]—he, alone with Christophe. (Jan.) Sail after sail whitens the horizon and gathers to the rendezvous; and they count ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty-six! The mercury in the heart of Toussaint sinks from sight: he sees the hopes of his life made havoc, and destruction again driving away peace. He turns from the vision, and, with heavy steps, seeks his place. From the ships went up the Te Deum and songs of thanksgiving, that Heaven had smiled on the speedy and prosperous voyage—the gods were propitious and success seemed certain. The ships were furnished with every munition of war. They bore Le Clerc as the leader of the expedition; and, with him, his wife, Pauline, the fascinating bacchante _venus victrix_, sister of Napoleon—for, was not this a holiday affair? With him were Admiral Vallaret Joyeuse, General Kerverseau, Rochambeau, Boudet, and Hardy. Were there not the mulatto chiefs, Rigaud, Petion, and Boyer? sagacious and brave mulattoes who may live to repent this suicidal act. It was clear that the blacks must again clasp their chains, that Toussaint must return to the grooming of Bayou’s horses, and a peaceful banana life. But not yet had Toussaint accepted the meanest existence possible to man. With his troops scattered over the island, (less than 20,000 men), what might yet be done? To die at least! “I took up arms for the freedom of my color,” said Toussaint; “it is our own—we will defend it or perish.”