"Seigneur bishop," the Councilman resumed with insistence and in a sad yet firm tone: "What is it that we demand of you? Justice. Nothing more. Return the horse or pay for it. Your servant has committed a crime. Inflict exemplary punishment upon him. Is that asking too much of you? Are you ready by your resistance to hand over our beloved country to innumerable calamities, and cause the shedding of blood? Reflect on the consequences of the conflict. Think of the women whom you will have widowed, the children whom you will have orphaned! Think of the calamities that you will conjure over our city!"
"I'm bound to think, heroic Councilman," replied the bishop with a disdainful sneer, "that you are afraid of war!"
"No, we are not afraid!" cried out Simonne, unable longer to control her impetuous nature. "Let the belfry summon the inhabitants to the defense of the Commune, and you will see that, as at Beauvais, as at Noyons, as at Rheims, the men will fly to arms and the women will accompany them to nurse the wounded!"
"By the blood of Christ, my charming Amazon, if I take you prisoner, you will pay the arrears due to your seigneur."
"Seigneur bishop," interposed the Councilman, "such words ill-become the mouth of a priest, above all when the issue is bloodshed. We dread war! Yes, undoubtedly, we dread it, because its evils are irreparable. I fear war as much or more than anyone else, because I wish to live for my wife, whom I love, and to enjoy in peace our modest means, the fruit of our daily labor. I fear war by reason of the disasters and the ruin that follow upon its wake."
"But you will fight like any other!" cried out Simonne almost irritated at the sincerity of her husband. "Oh, I know you! You will fight even more bravely than others!"
"More bravely than others is saying too much," naively interposed the baker. "I have never fought in my life. But I shall do my duty, although I am less at home with the lance or the sword than with the poker of the furnace in my bakery. Each to his trade."
"Admit it, good man," retorted the bishop laughing uproarously, "you prefer the fire of your furnace to the heat of battle?"
"On my faith, that's the truth of it, seigneur bishop. All of us good people of the city, bourgeois and artisans that we are, prefer good to evil, peace to war. But, take my word for it, there are things we prefer to peace, they are the honor of our wives, our daughters and sisters, our dignity, our independence, the right of ourselves and through ourselves to administering the affairs of our city. We owe these advantages to our enfranchisement from the seigniorial rights. Accordingly, we shall all allow ourselves to be killed, to the last man, in the defence of our Commune and in the protection of our freedom. That's why, in the name of the public peace, we implore you to do justice to our demand."
"Patron," broke in at this point Black John who entered the room precipitately, "a forerunner of the King has just arrived. He announces that he precedes his master only two hours, and that he comes accompanied with a strong escort."