"Ah!" said he, "our pious brother here! Well—you see that I am alive."
"Yes, and I am glad to know it," replied the monk, resuming his place at the bridle.
Melac turned to one of his adjutants: "Give orders to the drivers to go on, and let the soldiers cut down every man that attempts to mount the wagons or withdraw his effects. To get the honey, we must kill the bees. When they are all dead, the men can divide the spoils." [Footnote: Historical.—see Zimmermann, "History of Wurtemberg," vol. ii.]
"As soon as the sport is over," continued he, to another adjutant, "I will repair, with my staff, to the council-hall, there to see the illumination. Ride on, and tell the superintendent that, when he sees my handkerchief waving from the great window in the second story, he must apply his matches."
So saying, Melac put spurs to his horse, and, followed by his staff, approached the wagons, and gave a signal with his sword.
The whole train was set in motion, and the horses were urged to the top of their speed.
The unhappy victims of this demoniac stratagem gave one simultaneous shout of indignation. Those nearest the wagons strove to clutch at them with their hands. Some held on even to the wheels, some mounted the horses, some snatched the reins. But sharp swords were near; and, at the word of command, every outstretched arm was hacked off, and fell, severed, to the ground.
A struggle now began between the soldiery and the companions of those who had been so cruelly mutilated. They were unarmed, but they had the strength of brutes at bay; and by-and-by many a sword had been snatched from their assassins, and many a Frenchman had bitten the dust. General Melac was so interested in a fight between two soldiers and two women whose children had been driven off in the wagons, that, before he was aware of his danger, a sword was uplifted over his head, and a frenzied face was almost thrust into his own. At this moment his reins were seized, his horse was forced back, and the stout arm of the monk had wrested the sabre from the enraged German, who fell, pierced by a bullet from the holster of an officer close by.
"Was it you, pious brother, that so opportunely backed my steed?" inquired Melac.
The monk bowed, and the general saw that his forehead was bloody.