What bad things did Toussaint Louverture do

secrecyKeep his secret! This is for Balzac almost as much as a moral requirement. He has the greatest admiration for natures who are able to keep their secret and take it with them to the grave. «After he was caught once, is Toussaint Louverture died without saying a word Napoleon but, when he was on his rock, he chatted like a magpie: he wanted to make himself explicit ... There is no criminal who, if he could let his secrets fall into the red basket with his head, does not meet the purely social need feel like telling someone. " A reason for the admiration that Balzac For cooper was that his redskins did not reveal their secrets even on the torture stake.

secrecy (2) «Friends! We are not yet inexperienced in bad things! Certainly there is no greater evil ahead of us than when the Cyclops shut us up in the vaulted cave with overwhelming force. But even from there we escaped through my ability: my advice and alert mind. So I think we'll remember this one day too. But now! we all follow as I say it: you beat the deep surf of the sea with your oars, sitting down on the row benches: whether there is Zeus, that we might escape this ruin and slip away. But you, helmsman! I order so - but you have it in your mind, since you are in control of the rudder in the arched ship -: The ship push away from this smoke there and the surf wave and head towards the cliff so that it does not drift there unnoticed and you throw us into disaster. "

So I spoke, and they hurriedly followed my words. But I said nothing more about the Scylla: the plague, against which nothing can be done, so that my companions would not let me go in fear from the rowing work and huddle together in the ship. And then I forgot Kirke's painful instruction that she ordered me not to arm myself, but dipped into the splendid armor, took two long spears in my hands and climbed onto the deck of the ship at the bow. There I waited until Scylla would appear out of the stone first, which would bring me suffering for my companions. But I couldn't see them anywhere, and my eyes grew tired as I peered all around at the misty rock.

So we drove into the corner, lamenting: Scylla here, but over there the divine Charybdis sipped terribly in the salty water of the sea. Indeed, and when she spat it out, it boiled up like a kettle on a great fire, whirling around, and the foam flew up to the tops of the two cliffs. But when it swallowed the salty water of the sea again, it became visible all the way inwards, swirling around, and all around the rock roared terribly, and below the earth became visible, black with sand. But she was seized by pale fear. We looked at her, in fear of ruin: meanwhile Scylla brought me six companions from the hollow ship, who were the best in arms and strength. And when I looked at the fast ship and at the same time at the companions, I could already see the feet and hands of them as they were floating in the air. And they raised their voices and called me and called me by name, then for the last time, with a sad heart. And as if a sea fisherman on a ledge with a very long whip throws the little fish bites as bait and hurls the tube on the fishing hook into the sea, which is made of the horn of a cattle in the cattle yard, and then throws the wriggling out as soon as possible when he caught him: so they floated wriggling up the rock. And there she ate them at the entrance, the screaming ones, while they stretched out their arms to me in the terrible ruin.


secrecy (4)  

secrecy (5)  In secret since early childhood, Georges S., born on January 24, 1889, always proved to be a respectful son. No punishment during his military service. No entry in the criminal record. On July 2, 1912, he married Marie Dr., nineteen years old, daughter of a notary. He doesn't cheat on her. Drafted in 1914, he did not desert. In 1919 his father gave him the management of a fashion store. He takes it over. His employees unanimously praise his friendliness. Madame S. describes herself as very happy with a friend, although she regrets that her husband is so little talkative.

After S. got up in front of his wife as usual on August 17, 1921, he whistled; Goodbye, my darling, take courage! says the maid. He goes down into the garden, rakes a bed of lettuce, then locks himself in his study and writes a letter to an addressee who has remained unknown. He puts on his straw hat and takes his letter to the post office. On the way back he meets the pastor from N., greets him, then goes up to his wife, finds her still asleep and strangles her. Before leaving, he opens the blinds and disappears.