'GEORGES' ALEXANDRE DUMAS

"Pierre Munier's shoulders drooped, and he looked on the verge of tears. 'You will not let me fight?' "'Gather a corps of colored men and lead them yourself, then. Or join the black detachment, ' the little man said dismissively. "'But --' "'I order you to leave this battalion!' Monsieur de Malmedie shouted angrily . "A small voice piped up, trembling with fury. 'Come away, Father , from these people who insult you .' A hand pulled forcefully at Pierre Munier. "Pierre Munier turned in surprise. It was not indeed his younger son who had escaped from the Negro attendant to teach his father this lesson in dignity. Munier bowed his head and sighed deeply. The soldiers resumed their ranks and filed out of the square, de Malmedie at their head. Pierre Munier was left alone between his children, one of whom was red as fire and the other pale as death . He cringed before the double reproach of Jacque's flushed face and Georges 's white one. 'What would you have me do?' he asked his sons. 'You see how it is.'... "He waited uneasily for the boy's reply, dreading the cold accuracy with which he knew Georges had gauged the situation. The child said nothing at first, gazing at the far end of the square . 'Father,' he said at last. 'Look at those black men over there--they need someone to lead them.'... "Inspired by the younger boy's words and the elder's attitude, Pierre Munier approached the group of mulattoes. They recognized him immediately as one of the most respected men of color on the island--almost a father figure--and crowded eagerly around him, asking for orders, and imploring him to lead them into battle. "Almost at once an extraordinary transformation took place in Pierre Munier. The sense of inferiority he could never quite shake off in the presence of whites vanished, to be replaced by an appreciation of his own worth. He straightened to his full height, and his eyes--which had been kept humbly lowered before M. de Malmedie--flashed with energy. His voice grew firm and commanding, where it had trembled a moment before. Slinging his gun gracefully over his shoulder, he drew his saber and, motioning in the direction of the enemy, cried, 'Forward!'" P. 22-23, GEORGES by Alexandre Dumas (1829, 2007)