"No," replied his inflexible accuser, "flames are the death of martyrs; you are not worthy of such a death. Apostate, the hour has come!"
"Oh, my God! my God!" cried the priest, raising his arms to heaven.
"Stand up!" said the Chouan.
The priest tried to obey, but his strength failed him, and he fell again to his knees.
"Will you let that murder be done before your eyes?" Roland asked Cadoudal.
"I said that I washed my hands of it," replied the latter.
"Pilate said that, and Pilate's hands are to this day red with the blood of Jesus Christ."
"Because Jesus Christ was a righteous man; this man is a Barabbas."
"Kiss your cross! kiss your cross!" cried Sabre-tout.
The prelate looked at him with a terrified air, but without obeying. It was evident that he no longer saw, no longer heard.
"Oh!" cried Roland, making an effort to dismount, "it shall never be said that I let a man be murdered before me, and did not try to, save him."
A threatening murmur rose around him; his words had been overheard. That was all that was needed to excite the young man.
"Ah! is that the way of it?" he cried, carrying his hand to one of his holsters.
But with a movement rapid as thought, Cadoudal seized his hand, and, while Roland struggled vainly to free himself from this grip of iron, he shouted: "Fire!"
Twenty shots resounded instantly, and the bishop fell, an inert mass.
"Ah!" cried Roland. "What have you done?"
"Forced you to keep your promise," replied Cadoudal; "you swore to see all and hear all without offering any opposition."
"So perish all enemies of God and the king," said Sabre-tout, in a solemn voice.
"Amen!" responded the spectators with one voice of sinister unanimity.
Then they stripped the body of its sacerdotal ornaments, which they flung upon the pile of wood, invited the other travellers to take their places in the diligence, replaced the postilion in his saddle, and, opening their ranks to give passage to the coach, cried: "Go with God!"
The diligence rolled rapidly away.
"Come, let us go," cried Cadoudal, "we have still twelve miles to do, and we have lost an hour here." Then, addressing the executioners, he said: "That man was guilty; that man is punished. Human justice and divine justice are satisfied. Let prayers for the dead be said over his body, and give him Christian burial; do you hear?" And sure of being obeyed, Cadoudal put his horse to a gallop.
Roland seemed to hesitate for a moment whether to follow him or not; then, as if resolving to accomplish a duty, he said: "I will go to the end."
Spurring his horse in the direction taken by Cadoudal he reached the Chouan leader in a few strides. Both disappeared in the darkness, which grew thicker and thicker as the men left the place where the torches were illuminating the dead priest's face and the fire was consuming his vestments.
CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DIPLOMACY OF GEORGES CADOUDAL
The feeling that Roland experienced as he followed Georges Cadoudal resembled that of a man half-awakened, who is still under the influence of a dream, and returns gradually from the confines which separate night from day. He strives to discover whether the ground he walks on is that of fiction or reality, and the more he burrows in the dimness of his brain the further he buries himself in doubt.
A man existed for whom Roland felt a worship almost divine. Accustomed to live in the atmosphere of glory which surrounded that man, to see others obey his orders, and to obey them himself with a promptness and abnegation that were almost Oriental, it seemed amazing to him to encounter, at the opposite ends of France, two organized powers, enemies of the power of that man, and prepared to struggle against it. Suppose a Jew of Judas Maccabeus, a worshipper of Jehovah, having, from his infancy, heard him called the King of kings, the God of strength, of vengeance, of armies, the Eternal, coming suddenly face to face with the mysterious Osiris of the Egyptians, or the thundering Jupiter of the Greeks.
His adventures at Avignon and Bourg with Morgan and the Company of Jehu, his adventures in the villages of Muzillac and the Trinite with Cadoudal and his Chouans, seemed to him some strange initiation in an unknown religion; but like those courageous neophytes who risk death to learn the secrets of initiation, he resolved to follow to the end.
Besides he was not without a certain admiration for these exceptional characters; nor did he measure without a certain amazement these revolted Titans, challenging his god; he felt they were in no sense common men--neither those who had stabbed Sir John in the Chartreuse of Seillon, nor those who had shot the bishop of Vannes at the village of the Trinite.
And now, what was he to see? He was soon to know, for they had ridden five hours and a half and the day was breaking.
Beyond the village of Tridon they turned across country; leaving Vannes to the left, they reached Trefleon. At Trefleon, Cadoudal, still followed by his major-general, Branche-d'Or, had found Monte-a-l'assaut and Chante-en-hiver. He gave them further orders, and continued on his way, bearing to the left and skirting the edges of a little wood which lies between Grandchamp and Larre. There Cadoudal halted, imitated, three separate times in succession, the cry of an owl, and was presently surrounded by his three hundred men.
A grayish light was spreading through the sky beyond Trefleon and Saint-Nolf; it was not the rising of the sun, but the first rays of dawn. A heavy mist rose from the earth and prevented the eye from seeing more than fifty feet beyond it.
Cadoudal seemed to be expecting news before risking himself further.
Suddenly, about five hundred paces distant, the crowing of a cock was heard. Cadoudal pricked up his ears; his men looked at each other and laughed.
The cock crowed again, but nearer.
"It is he," said Cadoudal; "answer him."
The howling of a dog came from within three feet of Roland, but so perfectly imitated that the young man, although aware of what it was, looked about him for the animal that was uttering such lugubrious plaints. Almost at the same moment he saw a man coming rapidly through the mist, his form growing more and more distinct as he approached. The new-comer saw the two horsemen, and went toward them.
Cadoudal rode forward a few paces, putting his finger to his lips, as if to request the man to speak low. The latter, therefore, did not pause until he was close beside his general.
"Well, Fleur-d'epine," asked Georges, "have we got them?"
"Like a mouse in a trap; not one can re-enter Vannes, if you say the word."
"I desire nothing better. How many are there?"
"One hundred men, commanded by the general himself."
"How many wagons?"
"Seventeen."
"When did they start?"
"They must be about a mile and three-quarters from here."
"What road have they taken?"
"Grandchamp to Vannes."