# In the Shadow/Chapter 14
### CHAPTER XIV
#### ISIDORE ROSENTHAL

BUT do not delay in New York, Dessalines," pleaded Madam Fouchère, "continue with us to Port au Prince. New York is abominable unless one is bleached white like myself."
They were sitting together in one of the alcoves of the main salon; it was late in the afternoon; Fouchère was playing cards with some Parisians and Dessalines had asked Madam Fouchère to have champagne and fruit.
"It is imperative, my friend," answered Dessalines. "There are affairs which it is impossible to neglect."
"There is nothing else?" she asked, watching him narrowly, as she toyed with the stem of the glass.
"Hélas!" said Dessalines reproachfully, " you will not believe me when I tell you that I have no mind for gayety. Our country is in a grave crisis, my friend, and it is necessary to be patriotic."
"Or to have ambitions," she answered swiftly. She raised her glass and regarded him mockingly. "Santé, Dessalines, second emperor of Hayti!" From the shadowy corner where she sat her pale face gleamed against the rich upholstery and her eyes, dark, lurid, mocked him challengingly.
Dessalines glanced quickly about and then unconsciously his massive head was raised, the deep chest ex​panded, the black face grew fierce. It was but a transient emotion which, like all of his emotions, could not pass unheralded, but Madam Fouchère, watching him from her dark recess, lost none of it. Her mockery vanished.
"But why not?" she cried in a low voice, and leaned swiftly toward him. "You have the brain and the spirit and the knowledge and the—money. Fouchère controls a large district in Gonaives and he is your friend." She leaned toward him still farther. "And I am your friend," she added softly, dropping her hand lightly upon his as it rested on the rim of the table. Her eyes glowed at his like two coals upon which one breathes gently.
Dessalines' great muscles tightened; the rim of white about the eyeballs widened; she saw the wide nostrils dilate. His hand, turning, clasped hers until she could have screamed, and he half-raised it to his lips, then slowly lowered it. Her eyes, lurid, questioned him.
"As you say," said Dessalines slowly, thickly, speaking under pressure, "Fouchère is my friend."
Madam Fouchère sank back, eying him curiously. She was a skilled player on the passions of men, both black and white; also, she possessed imagination. Pique and perplexity were tugging different ways. She knew nothing of the English at home; she knew well that she pleased this great Kongo, stirred him to his depths; she had guessed his ambitions, no difficult matter with Dessalines whose cells were single-unit ones and no match for the iridescent mind flashes of the subtle griffonne. She knew of his ambitions, his determination to govern Hayti; it had not taxed her powers of finesse to draw ​from him his great, childlike project for the alliance of the races wherein Hayti was to figure as the thin edge of the wedge which should cleave old oppositions; she knew of his determination to place beside him a woman of white and undiluted blood, a woman of position in the great world upon the other side of that thin impalpable barrier which she felt must separate the fair world from those who like herself dwelt in the shadow.
Madam Fouchère waited for the present emotion to pass. She stroked the African vanity with a caressing touch. She was puzzled to find in him such power of restraint; she could not realize the imbibing of principles from his Anglo-Saxon associates, nor did she give its proper value to the simple African honesty transmitted straight from early days, and often to be found in the negro whose influence has been other than Latin.
"But Fouchère is less your friend than I, dear Dessalines; he likes you, it is true, but can you not see that he has his jealousies? He is unwilling to admit of an intelligence equal to his own, which, to tell the truth, is very great; myself, being French as well as Haytian, I am able to recognize native genius where it occurs." She fastened her eyes upon his face. "If you will so far honor me as to accept my offer of friendship, dear friend, you will never have cause to regret it." Again she laid her hand upon his. But Dessalines, like many simple natures, was stubborn.
"Madam honors me more than I deserve," he replied in his deep voice. Madam Fouchère slowly withdrew her hand, while a metallic gleam crept into her half-lidded eyes. Experienced as she was, it was maddening to find herself baffled by this great animal whose ​physical brutality held so much of her contempt and desire.
"It is easy to see that you are just from England, monsieur," she answered. "You are still in an atmosphere of fog and cold. When you have been a week in Hayti you will be different." Her marvelous eyes caressed his own. "I will ask you to remember, dear friend, that there is one in Hayti to whom you may always come in perplexity and the advice of whom you need not despise."
Dessalines bowed his head, raised her graceful hand slowly to his lips, but the action was passionless.
When the steamer arrived in New York Dessalines bade the Fouchères au revoir, first having promised the doctor to avail himself of his hospitality promptly upon his arrival in Hayti. As he left the gang plank, a tall, dark man stepped from the crowd of those waiting to greet arriving friends, and confronted Dessalines.
"My dear Comte!" he exclaimed in French, holding out a powerful, sinewy hand.
"Oh, oh! Rosenthal, camarade!" cried Dessalines eagerly. They embraced in the quaint French manner still to be seen in Hayti, kissing each other upon the cheeks. Rosenthal disengaged himself and held Dessalines at arm's length.
"You are as handsome as ever, my dear fellow!" he cried. They laughed. "You have had a good passage?"
"Delightful! I had the good fortune to fall in with the Fouchères who are returning."
"Ah!" The Jew's exclamation was sharp, incisive.
​"You know them, of course?" asked Dessalines.
"Oh, yes! Madam is beautiful, is she not?"
Rosenthal laughed to wipe away the impression of his first, sharp interrogation. As he laughed, his heavy, black mustache seemed to part in the middle and roll up and away from his strong, yellow teeth. He was a Bohemian Jew, a Czechian; a Jew of a fairly frequent but little-known type; a Jew to upset the popular Gentile opinions of his race. All traveled men have met him.
The world is familiar with the usual traits ascribed in excess to the Israelite, but not with this other Jew of whom there are many—thousands. He is the bold Jewish adventurer: an individual of iron physique; fierce courage when his safety or that of his goods is menaced; accomplished, a man of the world, generous with friends, lacking in pride but not humble; keen as a Chinaman with trade rivals; sensuous, alive to humor; capable of odd freaks of utterly disinterested kindness. A bold gambler, he is perhaps the only relic of the early adventurous Jewish traders who established the commerce, the credit of the world of finance; who ventured from the Levant, risking their lives and fortunes in frail vessels; rapacious, conscienceless with a trade victim; liberal with mistresses who were many; a rather admirable man, yet repellent to the Gentile by virtue of aggression. One who, in a company of plebeians, demands the ear of the one aristocrat; in a company of aristocrats, demands the ear of the one nobleman; in a company of nobles, demands the royal attention; who would buttonhole a divinity were this thing possible; or Satan himself in preference to any of his satellites.
Isidore Rosenthal was perhaps forty years of age; ​in style he was a muscular Mephistopheles. He was tall, big-boned, long-muscled, strongly awkward, yet symmetrical in figure; his hands were beautiful. His face was eager, mobile, with a mobility controlled less by emotion than the mind; no one expression was long naked; another overlapped it in the twinkling of an eye and sometimes so swiftly that the cruel, sensual mouth would be smiling while the eye still gleamed savage anger from beneath the black, bushy eyebrows.
Extremes met in Dessalines and Rosenthal: the first a savage of the most recent, the second a savage of the oldest civilization.
"You have arrived on the brim of the opportunity, my dear Comte; it would have been of no avail for you to have come sooner because my preparations are but just completed." Rosenthal's voice was harsh, discordant, raucous, but strong and full.
"And our vessel!" exclaimed Dessalines, "and the arms and ammunition and supplies?"
"Take care, take care," interrupted Rosenthal in a low, hoarse voice. "Pardon, dear Comte, but it is necessary to observe caution. As soon as we are clear of these accursed customs we will get into a cab and go to the hotel where I have engaged rooms for you; it is a quiet place where everyone minds his own business, and at this crisis it is better that you should sacrifice the admiration which accompanies you for the sake of discretion."
Dessalines acquiesced, although inwardly disappointed. He had been told by fellow passengers that New York had become too cosmopolitan to permit longer of race prejudice, and that he would be respect​fully treated at any of the best hotels. Dessalines possessed an intense dislike for accommodations which were modest and retiring, even although first class; nevertheless, he submitted gracefully to the superior judgment of his agent.
When finally clear of the customs, Rosenthal called a cab, leaving Jules in charge of the luggage. As soon as the door of the vehicle had slammed Dessalines turned eagerly to Rosenthal.
"And now, my dear fellow, the news; I am bursting with curiosity. Tell me of your plans, your preparations; but first of all the situation in Hayti."
"It is necessary that I begin with the incidents connected with the abdication of the President. As you may guess, this movement on his part, although premeditated by him, was brought about sooner than he had wished or anticipated by a discussion which arose as to whether he was entitled to the extra year of office gained by the death of Hippolyte. This right was denied by the adverse party, so the President, foreseeing a revolution, collected, with my assistance, all of the money that he could lay his hands on, and sailed by the steamship Olinde Rodriguez of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique."
"How much money was he able to secure?" asked Dessalines quickly.
"I do not know; but he has intrusted to me half a million of dollars to be spent for your cause, with the promise of more if you need it. For such disbursements as I have made already I will account to you later. But to resume; immediately before his abdication he convened the Chamber to elect a new President. The most ​promising candidate was Cincinnatus Le Conte, a man from the north, Cape Haitien. As soon as his election seemed assured, members of the adverse party began firing from the gallery and in the midst of the uproar President Sam sprang to his feet and cried: 'Gentlemen, I pray of you not to delay with your voting as we have need of haste!' The shooting became more general, and the different members of the Senate began to fly in all directions. At this the old rascal cried out: 'Gentlemen, let us remember our duty to our country!' Then, as a bullet struck the leg of his chair, he howled 'and to ourselves!' With this he fled from the Chamber with the Cabinet after him, like so many kittens behind the old cat. This was the way the revolution commenced. He fled on May 14th, assisted by the consuls of the different Powers."
Dessalines laughed at the Jew's account, but his face was troubled with the effort of concentrated thought.
"There is now much confusion?" he asked. Rosenthal threw out both hands. "It is laughable! They are coming from all sides, like kites to a dead donkey. This red-haired Killik who is in command of the Crête-à-Pierrot has run the red flag to his truck and declared himself a pirate."
"Admiral Killik!" exclaimed Dessalines.
"Yes. The fellow who stole the white girl and carried her off to his villa at La Coupe. The Chamber meanwhile has elected Boisrund Canal as President of the Provisional Government and Nord Alexis as Minister of War."
"A dangerous man," commented Dessalines.
"Yes, and clever. Personally I consider him the ​only one whom we have to fear. But so much for the situation; doubtless you will now be interested to learn how I have been occupying myself in the work of preparation. When we get to your hotel we will go over the matter in detail and you may audit my accounts with the receipts and other papers." Rosenthal paused and Dessalines settled himself back against the cushions with an involuntary sigh of disagreeable anticipation. Rosenthal, experienced, quick-witted man of the world that he was, read the emotions passing in the mind of his employer. He laughed indulgently.
"Ah, my dear Comte," said he, "it is indeed a pity to inflict upon you these cares the moment of your landing from a voyage; but courage, my dear Comte, it will not take long and everything is in good order. Your following in Hayti has been recruited from different districts by the agents of the ex-President; it remains only for us to arm and transport them to the scene of action. As to my part of the programme, I have purchased for you, through the agency of the firm of Mailock and Fenn, an admirable steamer of twenty-two hundred tons; the Waccamaw, a good vessel and in every way suited to our purpose. I got her at a bargain as you will see; I obtained a fifteen-per-cent discount for a cash payment and have made them replace the old boiler tubes with new; she will be ready for sea in three days. I have also purchased two field pieces, six six-pounders—these last rapid-fire guns—and arms and equipments for a thousand men. The uniforms are magnificent." He glanced slyly at Dessalines. "They are variegated for the different corps and will make most brilliant display." Rosenthal found it unnecessary to state that ​among other "slops" he had bought the cast-off uniforms of the full choruses of three large burlesque theatrical troups. Rosenthal was a competent man. He continued, talking rapidly: "It will be a thrilling spectacle, my dear Comte, a review of your troops in these uniforms which I have purchased at such a bargain that I am ashamed to tell you what I paid."
Dessalines' eyes brightened; the expression of apathy produced by the mention of the accounts to be audited was gradually effaced.
"You delight me, my dear fellow. I consider it very important, this matter of uniforms. A brave showing is half the battle; I feared that you might be tempted to purchase the dull, shoddy uniforms used by the army of this country."
"Not a bit of it. For your personal staff I have purchased twenty uniforms unsurpassed for style and elegance." He consulted his notebook. "Dolmans of hunter's green trimmed with gold lace; epaulets extra size. Note.—Dolmans to be worn with one or both sleeves loose, as a manteau militaire. Trousers of same material, with broad crimson stripes; gaiters white with buttons of gold."
Dessalines struggled hard to conceal his gratification. "The description is attractive," he observed. "They should be in excellent taste.
"I will not fatigue you now, my dear Comte, with other details regarding uniforms; you shall see for yourself. I think that they will meet with your approval. As regards provisions, munitions, and such details, the data is all awaiting us in my trunk at your hotel."
Again the sable face clouded.
​"It is necessary for us to apply ourselves diligently to these matters for a time," continued Rosenthal, and there was a tinge of austerity in the rough voice, "that in a few short weeks you may be able to enter the city of Port au Prince at the head of your victorious troops and take your proud place with the sovereigns of the world."
"Victoire!" burst involuntarily from the deep chest of Dessalines.