Ippolito folded his arms and paced up and down before the carabineers, in profound and distressing perplexity. Tebaldo leaned against a pillar and watched him with evil satisfaction. Concetta went and knelt down, facing the altar, by a pillar on the opposite side, and the fat sacristan stood still in the background, watching everybody.
The lieutenant shook his head from time to time while the corporal went over the case.
'For my part,' said the officer at last, 'I will wager my honour as a soldier that the priest did not kill him. But you will have to arrest him, not because of the feeling in the village, but simply because the evidence appears to be so strong. There is something here which we do not understand. But soldiers are not called upon to understand. It is always our duty to act to the best of our ability on what we can see. Understanding such things belongs to the law. I advise you to take him to your quarters and get him away from here to-night. He will make no resistance, of course.'
The corporal was satisfied, though he did not like the duty, and he came back to Ippolito.
'It is my duty to arrest you,' he said, in a tone which expressed some respect and much annoyance. Ippolito had stopped in his walk and turned when he heard the soldier's footsteps behind him.
'You must do what you think right,' he said calmly. 'I am ready.'
The corporal gave an order to his men, and requested Ippolito to walk between them. Then he himself opened the door of the church.
A multitude of people had assembled outside, and there were now at least three times as many as had at first followed Tebaldo and the carabineers. Many more were hurrying down from the gate, and there was the confused sound of many voices, talking angrily. But when Ippolito appeared there was silence for a moment. Then, from far back in the crowd, came a single cry, loud, high, derisive, and full of hatred.
'Assassin!'
The word rang out, and was immediately taken up and repeated by a hundred men and women, with a sort of concentrated fury that hissed out the syllables, as though each were a curse.