“We may yet save him,” muttered the crowd.
“Quick, quick,” resumed Gabriel, addressing the quarryman; “help me, brother. Let us carry him to a neighboring house, where he can have immediate aid.”
The quarryman obeyed with readiness. Whilst the missionary lifted Father d’Aigrigny by holding him under the arms, the quarryman took the legs of the almost inanimate body. Together, they carried him outside of the choir. At sight of the formidable quarryman, aiding the young priest to render assistance to the man whom he had just before pursued with menaces of death, the multitude felt a sudden thrill of compassion. Yielding to the powerful influence of the words and example of Gabriel, they felt themselves deeply moved, and each became anxious to offer services.
“Mr. Curate, he would perhaps be better on a chair, that one could carry upright,” said Ciboule.
“Shall I go and fetch a stretcher from the hospital?” asked another.
“Mr. Curate, let me take your place; the body is too heavy for you.”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” said a powerful man, approaching the missionary respectfully; “I can carry him alone.”
“Shall I run and fetch a coach, Mr. Curate?” said a young vagabond, taking off his red cap.
“Right,” said the quarryman; “run away, my buck!”
“But first, ask Mr. Curate if you are to go for a coach,” said Ciboule, stopping the impatient messenger.