She gently leaned over him and whispered his name, inhaling his sweet breath; but he was preoccupied by a deep dream of which she appeared to be the object: for several times she heard his feverish, fluttering lips whisper back, “Toni!” Overcome by an indescribable wistfulness, she could not bring it upon herself to tear him out of his sweet heavenly illusions down into a mundane and miserable reality; and convinced that he would awaken sooner or later of his own accord, she knelt down beside his bed and covered his precious hand with kisses.

But who can describe the horror that gripped her breast moments later upon suddenly hearing the sound of people, horses and rattling arms in the courtyard, and clearly recognizing among them the voice of the Negro Congo Hoango, unexpectedly returned with his entire band from General Dessalines’ encampment. Careful to avoid being seen in the moonlight, she scrambled for cover behind the window curtains, and already heard her mother informing Hoango of everything that happened while he was gone, including the presence of the European fugitive. With a muffled voice the Negro ordered his men to be still in the yard. He asked the old woman where the stranger was at that moment, whereupon she told him the room the white man was in and promptly proceeded to report the curious conversation she had had with her daughter concerning him. She assured the Negro that the girl was a traitor and that because of her daughter her entire plan of capturing the fugitive’s family threatened to fall through. The little fox, she said, had secretly taken advantage of the cover of night to sneak off to his bed, where she was sleeping soundly at this moment; and in all likelihood, if the stranger hadn’t already flown the coop, she’d warned him and conspired to facilitate his escape. Having already tested the girl’s trustworthiness under similar circumstances, the Negro replied: “I can’t believe it!” And “Kelly!” he cried in a rage. And “Omra! Get your guns!” And without wasting another word, he scampered up the steps with his entire entourage and barged into the stranger’s room.

Toni, before whose eyes and ears the entire scene had transpired, stood paralyzed in every limb, as though she’d been struck by lightning. At one point she thought of waking the stranger; but she immediately fathomed that, given the presence of Hoango’s troops, escape was no longer an option, and that since he was likely to reach for his weapons, and the Negro held the advantage by strength of number, she already saw him stretched out dead on the floor. She was indeed compelled to take into account the likelihood of the poor man’s assumption, upon finding her beside his bed at that moment, that she had betrayed him, and so, instead of following her advice, of flying in a frenzy and rashly falling right into Hoango’s clutches. In this unspeakable paroxysm of terror she suddenly laid eyes on a rope that, God knows by what coincidence, hung from a hook on the wall. God himself, she felt, had placed it there to save her and her beloved. She took it and bound the young man’s hands and feet, tying several knots; and not concerning herself with the fact that he had begun to stir and struggle to break free, she fastened the rope ends tightly to the bed frame; and happy to have mastered the moment, pressed a kiss on his lips and hurried off to greet Hoango, who was already clambering up the steps.

Still doubting the old woman’s account of Toni’s betrayal, upon seeing the girl rush out of the stranger’s room the Negro stood stunned and bewildered in the corridor with his armed and torch-bearing retinue. “The false-hearted turncoat!” he cried out, and turning to Babekan, who had taken several steps toward the door, asked her: “Has he escaped?” Finding the door open, without herself going in, Babekan turned back and howled like a lunatic: “The lying little cheat! She let him get away! Hurry up and man the gates before he makes it to the open fields!” “What’s the matter?” asked Toni, seeing the look of fury on the faces of the old woman and the blacks in attendance. “What the matter is?” Hoango replied, whereupon he seized her chest and dragged her into the room. “Are you all mad?” she yelled, breaking free of Hoango, who stood there stunned by what he saw. “Here’s your fugitive festooned by my own hand in his bed; and, by God, it’s not the worst deed I’ve ever done in my life!” At these words, she turned her back to him and sat down at a table, pretending to burst into tears. The old man turned in a rage at the mother who stood to the side: “Oh Babekan, with what fairy tales have you deceived me?” “Thank heaven,” replied the bewildered mother, examining the rope with which the stranger was tied; “here he is, indeed, though I can’t for the life of me understand what’s going on.” Sheathing his sword, the Negro strode to the bed and asked the stranger who he was, where he came from and where he was headed. But since the latter, twisting and turning to break free, made no reply but the pitifully muttered words: “Oh, Toni! Oh, Toni!” the mother spoke up and said he was a Swiss by the name of Gustav von der Ried, and that he and his filthy brood of European dogs, who at this very moment were hiding out in caves by the seagull pond, came from the coastal outpost of Fort Dauphin. Hoango, who saw the girl seated in a woeful state with her head buried in her hands, walked over to her and called her his dear girl, clapped her on the cheeks and begged her to forgive his having hastily suspected her. The old woman, who likewise approached the girl, shaking her head, flung her hands in the air, and asked: “Why then, if the stranger knew nothing of the impending danger he was in, did you bind him to the bed?” Turning suddenly to her mother, Toni, who was now crying real tears of heartache and fury, replied: “Because you have no eyes and ears! Because he did indeed grasp the danger he was in! Because he wanted to escape and begged me to help him! Because he intended to make an attempt on your own life, and had I not tied him up while still asleep, would surely have carried out his plan at daybreak!” Old Hoango covered the girl with caresses, trying to calm her down, and ordered Babekan to speak no more of this. He called for several guards with muskets to promptly carry out the sentence prescribed by the law on the stranger, but Babekan whispered in his ear: “For heaven’s sake, no, Hoango!” She took him aside and gave him to understand: “Before being executed, the stranger must be made to write an invitation, with the help of which we will lure to the plantation his family, whose capture would otherwise involve considerable risk.” Considering the fact that the family was most likely not unarmed, Hoango concurred with this recommendation; but seeing as it was too late to make the prisoner write such a letter, he posted two guards at his bedside; and after once again inspecting the rope himself, finding that it was too loose, and calling upon two of his men to tie it more tightly, he left the room with his retinue, and things settled back into an apparent calm.

But only pretending to go to bed, Toni bid good-night to the old Negro, who once again gave her his hand, and got up again as soon as the house was still, slipped out the back door and rushed into the field, and ran with her breast heaving in the darkest despair out to the highway to the path Monsieur Strömli’s family would have to take. The looks of contempt that the stranger shot at her from his bed pierced her heart like the thrusts of a knife; a feeling of hot bitterness mingled with the love she felt for him, and she exulted at the thought of dying in the course of carrying out his rescue. Afraid of missing the family if she tried to head them off, she waited by the trunk of a stone pine, by which, presuming they accepted the invitation, the group was bound to pass; and no sooner did the first flicker of dawn break on the horizon than, true to her instructions, Nanky’s voice could already be heard in the distance, leading them along.

The group comprised Monsieur Strömli and his wife, the latter riding on a mule, their five children, two of which, Adelbert and Gottfried, big strapping boys of eighteen and seventeen, respectively, walked beside the animal; three servants and two maids, one of whom, with a baby at her breast, rode the second mule; in all, they counted twelve. Making their way slowly over the protruding roots at the edge of the forest, they came to the stone pine, where Toni stepped out of the shadow as silently as possible, so as not to scare anyone, and called out: “Halt!” Nanky immediately recognized her and when she asked, as men, women, and children surrounded her, “Which one is Monsieur Strömli?” he cheerfully introduced her to the aging head of the family. “Noble Sir,” she said, with a firm voice interrupting the latter’s warm greeting, “the Negro Hoango unexpectedly returned home with his entire force. You cannot now find refuge here without risk to your life; indeed, your nephew, who, alas, was duped by the ploy, is lost if you don’t immediately take up arms and follow me to rescue him from the plantation where the Negro Hoango is holding him captive!” “God in Heaven!” all the members of the terror-stricken family cried out in unison; and the mother, who was ill and drained by the difficult journey, fell unconscious from the pack animal to the ground. While the maids leapt forward, on Monsieur Strömli’s orders, to help his wife, Toni, fearing Nanky’s inquisitive ears and all the while showered with questions from the sons, took Monsieur Strömli and the other men aside. And making no attempt to hold back her tears of shame and compunction, she told them everything that had happened; how matters stood at the moment the young man arrived at the house; how the intimate conversation she had with him unexpectedly changed everything; what she had done, half-crazy with terror, upon the Negro’s arrival, and how she was now resolved to risk her life to save him from the trap she herself had led him into. “My weapons!” cried Monsieur Strömli, rushing to his wife’s mule and pulling out his musket.