“Kiss your cross! kiss your cross!” cried Sabre-tout.
The prelate looked at him with a terrified air, but without obeying. It was evident that he no longer saw, no longer heard.
“Oh!” cried Roland, making an effort to dismount, “it shall never be said that I let a man be murdered before me, and did not try to, save him.”
A threatening murmur rose around him; his words had been overheard. That was all that was needed to excite the young man.
“Ah! is that the way of it?” he cried, carrying his hand to one of his holsters.
But with a movement rapid as thought, Cadoudal seized his hand, and, while Roland struggled vainly to free himself from this grip of iron, he shouted: “Fire!”
Twenty shots resounded instantly, and the bishop fell, an inert mass.
“Ah!” cried Roland. “What have you done?”
“Forced you to keep your promise,” replied Cadoudal; “you swore to see all and hear all without offering any opposition.”
“So perish all enemies of God and the king,” said Sabre-tout, in a solemn voice.