“Enough! You were one of the leaders of the revolt?”
“One of the leaders—yes.”
“Who were the others?”
A faint smile flitted over the lips of the young farmer, as he replied:
“The others were Monsieur Lacheneur, his son Jean, and the Marquis de Sairmeuse.”
The duke bounded from his gilded arm-chair.
“Wretch!” he exclaimed, “rascal! vile scoundrel!”
He caught up a heavy inkstand that stood upon the table before him: and one would have supposed that he was about to hurl it at the prisoner’s head.
Chanlouineau stood perfectly unmoved in the midst of the assembly, which was excited to the highest pitch by his startling declaration.
“You questioned me,” he resumed, “and I replied. You may gag me if my responses do not please you. If there were witnesses for me as there are against me, I could prove the truth of my words. As it is, all the prisoners here will tell you that I am speaking the truth. Is it not so, you others?”