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 "And yet not altogether," replied Dessalines. "Considering that most of the whites with whom we come in contact are not pure white, but half-caste; the yellow population of Santo Domingo. Do you not think, Miss Moultrie,"—the powerful strokes continued rhythmically and the sonorous voice seemed to time itself to the effort,—"do you not think that social equality is less a matter of race than individual?" The great black face was pathetic in its eagerness; there was a note of appeal in the vibrant voice. Virginia was suddenly touched. Dessalines as an animal was magnificent; Dessalines pleading was strangely pitiful.

"I think," she answered gently, "that social equality is less a condition than a name; that the individual of any race who is clean souled, charitable, and true to himself is the peer of any."

The great negro features seemed suddenly illumined. "It is so that I have thought," he answered. "It was for the grounding of these broad principles that I came to England, … and I shall, God willing, go back fully armed with Knowledge with which to drive my people to the light!"

"Would it not be better to lead them?" asked Virginia.

"No, Miss Moultrie; they have not yet reached a point where they can be led; they must still be driven. A republic in such a country as Hayti, with such a people, is absurd, a mockery, an object of ridicule to foreigners; the best thing for Hayti is a king." The great head suddenly came high, the flat nostrils dilated, the eyes widened, and the white teeth flashed. "A king!" thundered Dessalines, his vision focused far beyond the 117