278 TUE LIFS Or autumn,-there alone, in that coli, dreary dungeon, ao.4i little clothes, no companion, those long, pinching nights. then the winds began to blow hollow and loud, as if they nounded a worse time comnng. How soon ? How long? ' winter must be at hand; his caplirity may extend through whole course; but can it endure, can life stretch out till tl genial breath of Spring return I ' One day, in the midst of Toussaint's gloomy solitude, a i tor was announced. A visitor what if it were his son Isasai or if not he, perhaps an officer o' justice to announce the ca ing trial. No; it was Cafarelli, aide-de-camp to the First Conrj "Oh, then, here is an order for liberation the prison-doors wil fly open, and I shall once more see my wife and children ti Alas, poor heart, no! the man comes Ilrom one whose "soul.' meaner than his own. Bonaparte thinks it a pity the treasury he fancies you have buried should be lost; and though he doe9 not intend to give you your freedom as the price ol' the dir closure, yet he sends his aide-de-camp to tritk you into sorM kind of confession on the point, which hb may turn to a.'count3 and in the result of which, if it. is enough, he may find sou~i compensation for the millions he has lavished in St. Domingo ip making you his captive. Toussaint, great in mi.slbrtune, gave for his reply, I ha64 lost something very different from money." Yes, thou hado lost the liberty thou didst once enjoy; and, peradventure, in moment of sorrow thou rhou.htest thou hadst lost the sare cause in which thou hadst put thy soul. But mark this Consul's mean spirit. He had his victim thert cooped up only too safl-ly in that humid and infected prisa Still he was unsatisfied. Possibly the prisoner had money. o, why, its hiding-place must be ascertained ere his lips Sealed in the silence of death. Go, then, Caflirelli, get t secret out of the old negro, and then he may be allowed die." Toussaint would not. resign himself to his fate without effort. There was only one tribunal, and that tribunal was