Cadoudal remained motionless in the midst of this crowd. Roland stood near him, also motionless, but full of curiosity; for he was completely ignorant of who, or what, was in question.
The man who had just spoken to Cadoudal, and whom his companions called Sabre-tout, opened the door. The travellers were huddled together and trembling in the darkness within.
"If you have nothing to reproach yourselves with against God or the king," said Sabre-tout in a full sonorous voice, "descend without fear.
We are not brigands, we are Christians and royalists."
This declaration no doubt reassured the travellers, for a man got out, then two women, then a mother pressing her child in her arms, and finally another man. The Chouans examined them attentively as they came down the carriage steps; not finding the man they wanted, they said to each traveller, "Pass on."
One man alone remained in the coach. A Chouan thrust a torch in the vehicle, and by its light they could see he was a priest.
"Minister of the Lord," said Sabre-tout, "why did you not descend with the others? Did you not hear me say we were Christians and royalists?"
The priest did not move; but his teeth chattered.
"Why this terror?" continued Sabre-tout. "Does not your cloth plead for you? The man who wears a cassock can have done nothing against royalty or religion."
The priest crouched back, murmuring: "Mercy! mercy!"
"Why mercy?" demanded Sabre-tout, "do you feel that you are guilty, wretch?"
"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Roland, "is that how you royalists and Christians speak to a man of God!"
"That man," said Cadoudal, "is not a man of God, but a man of the devil."
"Who is he, then?"
"Both an atheist and a regicide; he denied his God and voted for the death of the king. That is the Conventional Audrein."
Roland shuddered. "What will they do?" he asked.
"He gave death, he will receive death," answered Cadoudal.
During this time the Chouans had pulled Audrein out of the diligence.
"Ha! is it you, bishop of Vannes?" cried Sabre-tout.
"Mercy!" begged the bishop.
"We were informed of your arrival, and were waiting for you."
"Mercy!" repeated the bishop for the third time.
"Have you your pontifical robes with you?"
"Yes, my friends, I have."
"Then dress yourself as a prelate; it is long since we have seen one."
A trunk marked with the prelate's name was taken from the diligence and opened. They took the bishop's robes from it, and handed them to Audrein, who put them on. Then, when every vestment was in its place, the peasants ranged themselves in a circle, each with his musket in his hand. The glare of the torches was reflected on the barrels, casting evil gleams.
Two men took the priest and led him into the circle, supporting him beneath his arms. He was pale as death. There was a moment of lugubrious silence.
A voice broke it. It was that of Sabre-tout.
"We are about to judge you," said the Chouan. "Priest of God, you have betrayed the Church; child of France, you have condemned your king to death."
"Alas! alas!" stammered the priest.
"Is it true?"
"I do not deny it."
"Because it is impossible to deny. What have you to say in justification?"
"Citizens--"
"We are not citizens," cried Sabre-tout, in a voice thunder, "we are royalists."
"Gentlemen--"
"We are not gentlemen; we are Chouans."
"My friends--"
"We are not your friends; we are your judges. You judges are questioning you; answer."
"I repent of what I did, and I ask pardon of God and men."
"Men cannot pardon you," replied the same implacable voice; "for, pardoned to-day, you would sin to-morrow. You may change your skin, but never your heart. You have nothing to expect from men but death; as for God, implore his mercy."
The regicide bowed his head; the renegade bent his knee. But suddenly drawing himself up, he cried: "I voted the king's death, it is true, but with a reservation--"
"What reservation?"
"The time of the execution."
"Sooner or later, it was still the king's death which you voted, and the king was innocent."
"True, true," said the priest, "but I was afraid."
"Then you are not only a regicide, and an apostate, but also a coward.
We are not priests, but we are more just than you. You voted the death of the innocent; we vote the death of the guilty. You have ten minutes in which to prepare to meet your God."
The bishop gave a cry of terror and fell upon both knees; the church bells rang, as if of their own impulse, and two of the men present, accustomed to the offices of the church, intoned the prayers for the dying. It was some time before the bishop found words with which to respond. He turned affrighted glances in supplication to his judges one after the other, but, not one face met his with even the consolation of mere pity. The torches, flickering in the wind, lent them, on the contrary, a savage and terrible expression. Then at last he mingled his voice with the voices that were praying for him.
The judges allowed him time to follow the funeral prayer to its close.
In the meantime others were preparing a pile of wood.
"Oh!" cried the priest, beholding these preparations with growing terror; "would you have the cruelty to kill me thus?"