“Then is killing in battle murder?”
“No, for it is not done in revenge. It is the motive that makes killing murder. Your motive is revenge.”
And then he went on to urge Tournier, for whom he had entertained the tenderest regard, that he would give up his bloody intention, and leave his enemy to God. He expostulated with him, used the most affectionate entreaties, appealed to the authority of his holy office.
But all in vain. Tournier stoutly, but in the most respectful language, refused to comply, and the bishop refused to grant him absolution.
But Tournier was most unhappy. Let those who remonstrate with another, apparently in vain, remember to their comfort, that oftentimes the remonstrance has not been entirely thrown away. The first blow of the hammer does not drive home the nail, but it begins to do so.
One more evening before the fatal day: That evening he would spend with his friends at the Manor House. He had treated them badly for several weeks, and never gone near them; but they received him just as cordially as ever, and took no notice of his absence, only expressed their pleasure at seeing him, which touched him all the more; and then the thought caused a lump in his throat that, perhaps, he might never see them again. He did not like to speak of what he was about to do before Alice, because it was an unpleasant subject for ladies’ ears, but
when she went out of the room, he began at once to tell her brother all, from first to last.
Never had he seen Cosin so greatly disturbed. He listened with open mouth and staring eyes to all that Tournier said without uttering a word. Not a remark did he make: not a question did he ask. Then, when the tale was told, and Tournier was waiting for some reply, Cosin started from his chair, and began to pace up and down the room in extreme agitation. At length he stopped in front of the other, and said, sternly but sorrowfully,—
“Then, after all, you have given up God.”
“I hope not.”