“No, father, we do not want the old curiosities, but the thirty marines’ guns which you have.”
“Avaunt!” said the abbe, taking a step towards the envoy.
“And you shall have the glory of contributing to deliver the country of the oppressors,” said Pitou, who took a backward step.
“Furnish weapons against myself and friends,” said the other, “give you guns to be fired against myself?” He plucked his scourge from his belt. “Never, never!”
He waved the whip over his head.
“But your refusal will have a bad effect,” pleaded Pitou, retreating, “you will be accused of national treason, and of being no citizen. Do not expose yourself to this, good Father Fortier!”
“Mark me a martyr, eh, Nero? is that what you intend?” roared the priest, with flaring eye and much more resembling the executioner than the victim.
“No, father, I come as a peaceful envoy to——“
“Pillage my house for arms as your friends gutted the Soldiers’ Home at Paris.”
“We received plenty of praise for that up there,” said Ange.