AN OVATION
his eyes from hers, and now fighting hard to control the revulsion which impelled her almost irresistibly to rush shrieking from his presence, was unable to formulate a reply. Dessalines, led into a new train of thought by this query, stood for a moment in silence.
"What is it?" he asked, and an odd fretfulness had entered his voice. "Have we not the same souls, the same God, the same heaven? We feel no repulsion to the whites, why should they feel it toward us?" The childish querulousness had all returned. "I do not understand this spirit; it is not a Christian spirit; it is, must be displeasing to God. Is it because my people have been for so many years in slavery? Why are not we as good as anyone else? Why do they call us 'niggers' and speak of us as if we were dogs and animals and worse? I do not understand such things."
Virginia recognized the puzzled, angry child. The tone was peevish, almost whimpering. Like a flash the revulsion left her; she was filled with a sense of remoteness, infinite wisdom as compared with this childish, groping intellect, made peevish by a question with which his primitive brain was unable to grapple; voicing his perplexities in a series of persistent "whys." "You must not vex yourself with such questions now," she answered, "you have enough to occupy all of your thoughts. Afterwards … when you are established it will be time enough to consider these things."
The black face changed as if by magic.
"Come," said Virginia quietly, "here is Mrs. Cromwell's carriage; she is anxious to meet you." She led the way through the swinging doors.
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