A roar of applause greeted Blacquart’s heroism, and the attention of the party was immediately turned towards the Gascon, to the great relief of Sainte-Croix, who during the anecdote had been ill at ease. He could have added that he had himself escorted the marchioness from the Jacobins when Theria was recalled.
‘I propose,’ cried Camille, ‘that, for his bravery, Jean Blacquart be invested with the ancient Order of Montfauçon.’
‘Agreed,’ cried the others, rising and surrounding the Gascon, whose countenance betrayed a mixed expression of self-conceit and apprehension.
‘Ho, messire!’ exclaimed Theria to Lachaussée, who had remained all the time sitting near the fire; ‘we appoint you Master of the Halter. Take it, and tie it round that beam.’
He threw a cord to Sainte-Croix’s attendant as he spoke, who fastened it to the point indicated, with its running noose hanging down.
‘What are you going to do?’ demanded Blacquart, getting somewhat terrified.
‘To hang you,’ replied Camille: ‘but only for a little time. Glazer and myself will mind your pulse carefully; and when you are nearly dead you may depend upon it that we shall cut you down.’
‘But—I say—Theria—Philippe!’ cried Jean in an agony of fright. He had witnessed so many of their wild pranks that he did not know what they were about to do.
‘Père Camus,’ cried the master of the Gens de la Courte Épée to one of the party bearing a costume of the church—a broken-down and dissipated abbe. ‘Père Camus, chant a mass for the departing courage of Jean Blacquart.’
‘Au secours!’ shrieked the Gascon; ‘au feu! aux voleurs! au——’