IN THE SHADOW
"Very well!" Dessalines threw out one great arm and yawned. Jules gazed fascinated at the gaping jaws set with their huge, strong, gleaming teeth. Jules had been three years in the service of the Haytian and had not yet reached the limit of his awed admiration for his master.
"You will lay out the light-gray Oxford, Jules, and one of the heliotrope negligee shirts. I will also wear the steamer shoes and the gray gaiters. But first shave me, Jules."
Dessalines was scrupulously tidy; also, he loved stylish clothes. His toilet completed he strolled on deck where he found Dr. Fouchère directing a steward who was arranging a steamer chair.
"Oh, good morning, comrade!" cried Fouchère. Then to the steward: "Diable! would you have the face of madam in the sun? Now fetch another pillow. Là, you have drawn the rug too low! The shoulders of madam will be exposed to the draught"
"I trust that Madam Fouchère has quite recovered from her indisposition," said Dessalines.
"Thank you, dear Aristide, she is feeling almost herself again. I go now to bring her up. That will do," he said to the steward, and excusing himself to his friend, went below.
Dessalines waited in some curiosity. He had heard tales of the beauty of Madam Fouchère. He recollected that his friend had married in Paris several years previously; that his wife was of Haytian parentage, but born and educated in France; also, it seemed to him that he had heard it said that she was almost white.
Pleased at this prospective diversion for the voyage
162
