The quarryman remained motionless, whilst the crowd, strangely impressed with this incident, approached a little nearer the railing, without daring to come within the gate.
"Strike then!" resumed Gabriel, addressing the quarryman, whilst he pointed to the crowd with a solemn gesture; "there are the judges; you are the executioner."
"No!" cried the quarryman, drawing back, and turning away his eyes; "I'm not the executioner--not I!"
The crowd remained silent.For a few moments, not a word, not a cry, disturbed the stillness of the solemn cathedral.In a desperate case, Gabriel had acted with a profound knowledge of the human heart.When the multitude, inflamed with blind rage, rushes with ferocious clamor upon a single victim, and each man strikes his blow, this dreadful species of combined murder appears less horrible to each, because they all share in the common crime; and then the shouts, the sight of blood, the desperate defence of the man they massacre, finish by producing a sort of ferocious intoxication; but, amongst all those furious madmen, who take part in the homicide, select one, and place him face to face with the victim, no longer capable of resistance, and say to him, "Strike!"--he will hardly ever dare to do so.
It was thus with the quarryman; the wretch trembled at the idea of committing a murder in cold blood, "all alone." The preceding scene had passed very rapidly; amongst the companions of the quarryman, nearest to the railing, some did not understand an impression, which they would themselves have felt as strongly as this bold man, if it had been said to them: "Do the office of executioner!" These, therefore, began to murmur aloud at his weakness."He dares not finish the poisoner," said one.
"The coward!"
"He is afraid."
"He draws back." Hearing these words, the quarryman ran to the gate, threw it wide open, and, pointing to Father d'Aigrigny, exclaimed: "If there is one here braver than I am, let him go and finish the job--let him be, the executioner--come!"
On this proposal the murmurs ceased.A deep silence reigned once more in the cathedral.All those countenances, but now so furious, became sad, confused, almost frightened.
The deluded mob began to appreciate the ferocious cowardice of the action it had been about to commit.Not one durst go alone to strike the half-
expiring man.Suddenly, Father d'Aigrigny uttered a dying rattle, his head and one of his arms stirred with a convulsive movement, and then fell back upon the stones as if he had just expired.
Gabriel uttered a cry of anguish, and threw himself on his knees close to Father d'Aigrigny, exclaiming: "Great Heaven! he is dead!"
There is a singular variableness in the mind of a crowd, susceptible alike to good or evil impressions.At the heart-piercing cry of Gabriel, all these people, who, a moment before, had demanded, with loud uproar, the massacre of this man, felt touched with a sudden pity.The words:
"He is dead!" circulated in low whispers through the crowd accompanied by a slight shudder, whilst Gabriel raised with one hand the victim's heavy head, and with the other sought to feel if the pulse still beat beneath the ice-cold skin.
"Mr.Curate," said the quarryman, bending towards Gabriel, "is there really no hope?"
The answer was waited for with anxiety, in the midst of deep silence.
The people hardly ventured to exchange a few words in whispers.
"Blessed be God!" exclaimed Gabriel, suddenly."His heart beats."
"His heart beats," repeated the quarryman, turning his head towards the crowd, to inform them of the good news.
"Oh! his heart beats!" repeated the others, in whispers.
"There is hope.We may yet save him," added Gabriel with an expression of indescribable happiness.
"We may yet save him," repeated the quarryman, mechanically.
"We may yet save him," muttered the crowd.
"Quick, quick," resumed Gabriel, addressing the quarryman; "help me, brother.Let us carry him to a neighboring house, where he can have immediate aid."
The quarryman obeyed with readiness.Whilst the missionary lifted Father d'Aigrigny by holding him under the arms, the quarryman took the legs of the almost inanimate body.Together, they carried him outside of the choir.At sight of the formidable quarryman, aiding the young priest to render assistance to the man whom he had just before pursued with menaces of death, the multitude felt a sudden thrill of compassion.Yielding to the powerful influence of the words and example of Gabriel, they felt themselves deeply moved, and each became anxious to offer services.
"Mr.Curate, he would perhaps be better on a chair, that one could carry upright," said Ciboule.
"Shall I go and fetch a stretcher from the hospital?" asked another.
"Mr.Curate, let me take your place; the body is too heavy for you."
"Don't trouble yourself," said a powerful man, approaching the missionary respectfully; "I can carry him alone."
"Shall I run and fetch a coach, Mr.Curate?" said a young vagabond, taking off his red cap.
