"Yes, that's what he deserves," said the professor. "That's only fair."
After the professor's words, which seemed like a judgment condemning Comperou, we all huddled together and got as far away from him as possible, leaving a space between us and the unfortunate man. For several hours, I should think, he sat there, grief stricken, his lips moving every now and again, to say:
"I repent! I repent!"
And then Pages and Bergounhoux would cry out:
"It's too late! It's too late! You repent because you're afraid now; you should have repented six months ago, a year ago."
He gasped painfully, but still repeated:
"I repent! I repent!"
He was in a high fever; all his body shook and his teeth were chattering.
"I'm thirsty," he said; "give me the boot." There was no more water in the boot. I got up to go and fetch some, but Pages, who had seen me, called to me to stop, and at the same moment Uncle Gaspard pulled me by the arm.