He went down like a log, Croisette falling with him, held fast by
his stiffening fingers.
I had never killed a man before, nor seen a man die; and if I had
stayed to think about it, I should have fallen sick perhaps. But
it was no time for thought; no time for sickness. The crowd were
close upon us, a line of flushed threatening faces from wall to
wall. A single glance downwards told me that the man was dead,
and I set my foot upon his neck. "Hounds! Beasts!" I cried,
not loudly this time, for though I was like one possessed with
rage, it was inward rage, "go to your kennels! Will you dare to
raise a hand against a Caylus? Go--or when the Vicomte returns,
a dozen of you shall hang in the market-place!"
I suppose I looked fierce enough--I know I felt no fear, only a
strange exaltation--for they slunk away. Unwillingly, but with
little delay the group melted, Bezers' following--of whom I knew
the dead man was one--the last to go. While I still glared at
them, lo! the street was empty; the last had disappeared round
the bend.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43