“Let him go down,” he cried.
At this command Pierre was soused into the water. The crowd gave a cheer and fell to counting the swings of the pendulum. At first there were not many voices, but the number grew with the seconds. At twenty they sounded like a dull roar. At thirty the people were clapping their hands and stamping their feet and yelling like mad.
“Thirty-eight,” rumbled the mob. “Thirty-nine, forty.”
“Fetch up,” shouted the magistrate.
Pierre was lifted out of the water, dripping and snorting from his forty seconds beneath the surface.
“Have you had enough?” asked the magistrate.
“No,” answered Pierre defiantly.
“Dip him again.”
Once more he was mercilessly ducked into the cold water. The pendulum was again set in motion. The crowd fell into its boisterous count. I looked around in dismay.
“Is there nothing we can do?” I asked the dominie.