The wife had closed her eyes, waiting for the stroke that would cause the drooping brow to close them forever. The executioner had raised his knife when there fell upon the silence of the bund a rumble, a roar, and then that cry of terror:
“Hung Shun Tien!”
While the marines endeavoured to get their cannon in position, the Chinese troops ran thither and thither, uttering cries of terror. The spectators separated into two parts, one panic-stricken while the other threw their queues over their right shoulders in the sign of Shou and echoed that terrible cry.
A deluge of men overflowed the whole bund, and marines, spectators, and soldiers were lost in it.
As though unconscious of this great flood of mankind aroused by him the Breton went through the way which the Eye gleaming sullenly on his bosom opened for him. And as he stepped out into the open space toward the crucifix, this now vast multitude became silent. Those that were near saw him draw his hand across his eyes; shaggily shake his head and shoulders, then go slowly over to the crucifix.
The executioners drew away as he approached, and two fell upon their knees obedient to the mandate of the Eye aglitter in the gathering gloom.
The Breton stood for a moment silently beside the crucifix.
“I have come,” he said softly.
A smile passed over the lips of the wife, but she did not open her eyes.