“Arrah, he 's too weak; the man is dying,” said a voice near.
“And if he is,” said the other, “who wants his help? sure, is n't it to keep him quiet, and not bethray us?”
“The devil a fear of that,” said the former speaker; “he's thrue to the backbone; I know them that knows him well.”
By this time De Meudon had risen to his feet, and stood leaning upon a tall headstone beside him; his foraging cap fell off in his effort to stand, and his long thin hair floated in masses down his pale cheeks and on his shoulders. The moon was full upon him; and what a contrast did his noble features present to the ruffian band that sat and stood around him!
“And is it a scheme of murder, of cold, cowardly assasination, you have dared to propose to me?” said he, darting a look of fiery indignation on him who seemed the leader. “Is it thus you understand my presence in your country and in your cause? Think ye it was for this that I left the glorious army of France,—that I quitted the field of honorable war to mix with such as you? Ay, if it were the last word I were to speak on earth, I 'd denounce you, wretches that stain with blood and massacre the sacred cause the best and boldest bleed for!”
The click of a trigger sounded harshly on my ear, and my blood ran cold with horror. De Meudon heard it too, and continued,—“You do but cheat me of an hour or two, and I am ready.”
He paused, as if waiting for the shot. A deadly silence followed; it lasted for some minutes, when again he spoke,—“I came here to-night not knowing of your intentions, not expecting you; I came here to choose a grave, where, before another week pass over, I hoped to rest. If you will it sooner, I shall not gainsay you.”
Low murmurs ran through the crowd, and something like a tone of pity could be heard mingling through the voices.
“Let him go home, then, in God's name!” said one of the number; “that's the best way.”
“Ay, take him home,” said another, addressing me; “Dan Kelly 's a hard man when he 's roused.”