"Then thou must suffer. Thou shalt die as thy St. Edmund did--fit death it was, too, for a beggarly English saint. I ask thee for the last time."
No reply. Etienne bade the men stand aside, and then, taking his stand at the other end of the room, which may have been twenty feet long, took accurate aim and shot an arrow through the muscle of the right arm.
"Wilt thou speak?"
Beads of sweat stood upon the brow; but the lips found strength yet to answer--once more the bolt flew, and the left arm was pierced in turn.
"Wilt thou answer my questions now?
"The rebels and fools, thy countrymen, have been amusing themselves by shooting at us all day; methinks the tables are turned now."
He shot again and wounded his victim in the shoulder. The whole frame trembled; the lips moved, as if in prayer.
"Let me shoot this time," said Pierre, "if he will not answer."
"Take the bow then; hit the other shoulder."
Pierre took very accurate aim, and shot right through the heart. One convulsive throb, and the body hang by the cords dead, and past the reach of suffering.