The room we entered was destitute of furniture and blackened with smoke. Heaps of broken fragments impeded our entrance and lay on the floor. A man sitting on the ground was restlessly taking up one piece after another, and laying them down again, muttering to himself, without noticing us.
"I know not why they should have done so," he said hurriedly; "the poor chairs and tables could not hurt. And, after all, when they hung me up I gave in, and kissed the cross made by their swords; and they knocked me about after that. If that was justice, I don't know what justice is. They hurt my wife, too, or she would not have shrieked out so. And her word always had been—'Hold out; pain may be borne; and they dare not kill us!' But when she saw them tie me up, she cried out, 'Oh, Pierre, Pierre, give in—give in!' So what was I to do? Answer me that."
"This poor fellow has lost his senses," said Antoine, softly. "Wait here a minute. I will soon return."
I stood where I was. It seemed to me from the charred remains that the furniture had been just broken up and then partially burnt. There was a great beam across the ceiling, with large iron hooks on which to hang bacon, onions, and such-like. From one of these hooks dangled a strong chain.
"They drew me up with that," said he, turning his dull eyes on me, and the next instant looking away. "They passed the chain under one of my armpits, and so suspended me; and then beat me. I was not going to stand that, you know. My wife ran away, calling on me to give in; so what could I do? Could I help it? Am I a renegade?"
I said, "Let us remember David's words—'Have mercy on me, O Lord, for my sin is great.' He did not say, 'for my sin is little—a very little one—the first I ever sinned;' but 'my sin is great;' and therefore have mercy on me. Say it after me. 'Have mercy on me, for my sin is great.'"
—"For my sin is great," repeated he, melting into tears. And again and again he repeated, weeping, "For my sin is great—my sin is great. Have mercy on me, O Lord, for my sin is great."
"He also hath forgiven the wickedness of thy sin," said I. "Let us turn unto the Lord, for he will heal us, and not be angry with us for ever."
Antoine drew me away. We left the poor man in tears, and went into the yard, where stood a cart, with a sorry horse in it, and a heap of loose fagots and pieces of broken furniture beside it.
"Get you in here, sir, and lie down," said he. "I will pile the wood over you as lightly as I can."