“Well,” demanded a hundred voices, “what does he say, Sabre-tout?”
“He says we must act according to our consciences, and that he washes his hands of it.”
“Long live the Big Round Head!” cried all the people, rushing toward the diligence.
Cadoudal remained motionless in the midst of this crowd. Roland stood near him, also motionless, but full of curiosity; for he was completely ignorant of who, or what, was in question.
The man who had just spoken to Cadoudal, and whom his companions called Sabre-tout, opened the door. The travellers were huddled together and trembling in the darkness within.
“If you have nothing to reproach yourselves with against God or the king,” said Sabre-tout in a full sonorous voice, “descend without fear. We are not brigands, we are Christians and royalists.”
This declaration no doubt reassured the travellers, for a man got out, then two women, then a mother pressing her child in her arms, and finally another man. The Chouans examined them attentively as they came down the carriage steps; not finding the man they wanted, they said to each traveller, “Pass on.”
One man alone remained in the coach. A Chouan thrust a torch in the vehicle, and by its light they could see he was a priest.
“Minister of the Lord,” said Sabre-tout, “why did you not descend with the others? Did you not hear me say we were Christians and royalists?”
The priest did not move; but his teeth chattered.