IN THE SHADOW
the Haytian and one watching closely could have seen the flat nostrils slightly dilate; the voice of the Haytian seemed to falter; he mumbled a trifle, seemed ill at ease, hesitated awkwardly. Dr. Leyden's cool, even voice cut through his as the hum of a bullet cleaves the rumble of a drum; Dessalines, bewildered, found himself listening submissively to the words of a master.
"Ah, yes, Comte Dessalines," Leyden was saying, "I know your country well; a beautiful country, but if you will permit me to say so, open to improvement in many ways. With your advantages there is much that you may do."
"That is to be my work," said Dessalines. "The uplifting of Hayti—not the uplifting of myself at the expense of Hayti; the stamping out of ancient savagery, the promulgation of our ethics, political and social, of the economics and religion of advanced civilizations." The great voice began to swell; the rhythmic roll of euphonic words restored the African's self-confidence. "My people, …" he began majestically.
"Are for the most part kind and harmless negroes, hag-ridden by unscrupulous leaders," interrupted Leyden in a dry, practical voice; "just so. All that your people need is decent treatment; to be encouraged to diligence and thrift—what any peasant class needs. Exactly, I am very glad to find that you take such a sensible view of the case."
Dessalines, his oratorical bubble pricked, subsided helplessly, smiled, shuffled a trifle, and seemed for the moment at a loss. At this moment dinner was announced and Dessalines, as guest of honor, took out his hostess.
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