The next day, he explained fully to his officers and soldiers what were the terms of the treaty, and impressed upon their minds that such a promise could not be violated without committing the sin of perjury. He thanked them all for the courage and devotedness they had shown under his command, embraced his officers, and bade them an affectionate farewell. They shed tears, and expressed the greatest reluctance to part with him; but he told them that such a course would best conduce to public tranquillity. The soldiers were inconsolable. They followed him, calling out in the saddest tones, "Have you deserted us?" He replied: "No, my children. Do not be uneasy. Your officers are all under arms, and at their posts." Twelve years had passed since he was working on the Breda estate, and seeing houses and cane-fields on fire in every direction, had said to his wife, "The slaves have risen." Since that time, his life had been one scene of excitement, danger, ceaseless exertion, and overwhelming responsibility. He had been commander-in-chief of the armies of St. Domingo during five years, and governor of the island about one year. Now, with a heart full of anxiety for his people, but cheered by hopes of domestic happiness, he retired, far from the scene of his official splendor, to Ennery, a beautiful valley among the mountains. Surrounded by his family, he busied himself with clearing up the land and cultivating oranges, bananas, and coffee. The people round about often came to him for advice, and he freely assisted his neighbors in making repairs and improvements. Strangers often visited him, and when he rode abroad he was greeted with every demonstration of respect. General Le Clerc, meanwhile, was attacked by a new and terrible enemy. His troops, unused to the climate, were cut down by yellow fever, as a mower cuts grass. In this situation, had Toussaint excited the blacks against them, they might have been exterminated; but he had sworn to observe the treaty, and he was never known to break his word. The kind-hearted negroes, in many cases, took pity on the suffering French soldiers; they carried them many little comforts, and even took them into their houses, and nursed them tenderly.