IN THE SHADOW
"I thank you. I have been much in the sun to-day," replied Dessalines. He was aware of the utter impossibility of sleep, but he knew that the drum would later recommence. He wished to fight his fight alone; to have recourse to prayer.
"Then let us retire; I also am fatigued," said madam, and this time he caught the suppressed trembling of her voice and it seemed to set his heart on fire. Her eyes were glowing like the pit of a crucible. They rested for a moment upon his and she gave him a hand, cold as ice.
"Good night, my friend, may your dreams be such as you desire!"
•••••
Dessalines awoke, still upon his knees. The night wind striking down from the heights smote his bare chest and he shivered with the chill. A late, yellow moon blazed luridly through his wide-opened jalousies .
His numbed faculties roused. Hark! … the drum! … pulsing up with insistent beat; the scent of the stephanotis, distilled in the sun, dissolved in the dew; he crouched quivering.
Outside his window a balcony ran the length of the house. A loose plank creaked; a thin, banded shadow flitted through his opened door, lay athwart his couch.
"Dessalines … Dessalines … Dessalines!" From without there came a whisper, sibilant as the hiss of a snake. He arose stealthily and stole to the casement.
Without stood La Fouchère. She was in her kimono, and the late moonlight turned her neck and arms a creamy, diaphanous yellow. She leaned on the rail, staring down into the valley.
"Ah, madam!" gasped Dessalines, "you are indis-
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