“May I ask the English of that, Captain Keene?” replied Cross.
“Yes, it is very pleasant. He says that it’s not worth while eating anything, as we shall be shot in half an hour.”
“Well, I suppose they’ll shoot us first, and try us afterwards,” replied Cross. “Won’t they give us a reason?”
“I suspect not, Cross. I am sorry that I have got you into this scrape; as for myself, I care little about it.”
“I am sorry for poor Jane, sir,” replied Cross; “but we all owe Heaven a death; and, after all, it’s not worth making a fuss about.”
Our conversation was here interrupted by a party of French soldiers, who opened the door and ordered us to follow them. We had not far to go, for we were led out to the Grand Place, before the prison, where we found the French troops drawn up, and General Moraud, with his officers round him, standing in the centre. At twenty yards’ distance, and surrounded by the troops, which did not amount to more than three hundred, were thirty of the principal inhabitants of the town, pinioned, and handkerchiefs tied over their eyes, preparatory to their being shot; this being the terrible example that the governor had threatened.
“Look, Cross,” said I, “what a handful of men these Frenchmen have retaken the town with. Why, if we had resisted, we might have laughed at them.”
“They won’t laugh any more, I expect,” replied Bob.
“Allons,” said the corporal to me.
“Where?” replied I.