"I entreat you!"
"Stop! don't make me angry—I have said no, and no it is!" cried La
Louve, very much irritated.
"Have pity upon her; see how she weeps!"
"What is that to me? So much the worse for her; she is our target."
"That's true, that's true, don't give it up," murmured several of the prisoners, carried away by the example of La Louve.
"You are right—so much the worse for her!" said Fleur-de-Marie, with bitterness. "She is your butt; she ought to be resigned to it; her groans amuse you, her tears make you laugh. You must pass the time in some way; if you should kill her on the spot, she has no right to say anything. You are right, La Louve—it is just! this poor woman has done no harm; she cannot defend herself; she is one against the whole— you overpower her—that is very brave and very generous."
"Are we cowards, then?" cried La Louve, carried away by the violence of her character, and by her impatience of all contradiction. "Will you answer? are we cowards, eh?" said she, more and more irritated.
Murmurs, very threatening for the Goualeuse, began to be heard. The offended prisoners approached and surrounded her, vociferating, forgetting or revolting against the ascendancy that the young girl had until then obtained over them.
"She calls us cowards! By what right does she scold us? Is it because she is greater than we are? We have been too good to her, and now she wants to put on airs with us. If we choose to torment Mont Saint Jean, what has she got to say about it? Since it is so, you shall be worse beaten than before, do you hear, Mont Saint Jean?"
"Hold, here is one to begin with," said one of them, giving her a blow. "And if you meddle with what don't concern you, La Goualeuse, we'll treat you in the same way."