IN THE SHADOW
Virginia leaned against the wall, sick, shivering. Giles rushed on, passed through the room occupied by Dessalines, then out upon the balcony. He saw the cavalcade wheel, move slowly down the broad avenue, pass beneath the live oaks.
Dessalines' great body was huddled against the threshold of the balcony door. He held his head between his hands; the blood from half a score of wounds drummed upon the planking.
Giles sank beside him; threw his arm about the great shoulders. The massive head tottered, fell upon the shoulder of the Englishman.
"Poor Dessalines," whimpered the deep voice. "Poor Dessalines! Poor Dessalines!"
The words came faintly and with a strangled sob; the great frame rocked to and fro.
The tears gushed from the eyes of Giles. "Aristide!" he faltered.
"Giles … Giles …" came the feeble, plaintive voice—the voice of a little child. "Stay with me, Giles. Poor Dessalines, he meant no harm, Giles. Poor Dessalines"
The head sank lower. "Poor Dessalines," came a soft whisper, and then the soul slipped out to greet the pitying God who made men Black and White.
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