Then he embraced his faithful comrade and sent him away.
"Now it is our turn, Henry Catsrider!" said he, turning to his mortal foe.
The dean, who had accompanied him so far to give him the consolations of religion, exhorted him to turn to God in this the last moment of his life and to pray. Valentine beckoned him away.
"I believe in a God, but not in the bloodthirsty God in whom you believe."
"Do not die without the blessing of the Church," said the clergyman appealingly.
"Can I require a greater blessing from the Church than to have for my confessor the executioner who cuts off my head?"
The crowd below took great pleasure in this passage of arms.
Valentine, in fact, was seized by that desperate merriment which is known as gallows humor. The spirits of those who had preceded him in this dreadful stage swept around him and suggested bitter jibes and taunts.
"Well, my good friend," said Valentine jocosely, to Henry, "is it to-day with you or to-morrow? Your eyes look as crooked as if you had not slept all night. I fear me you will not strike where you aim."
Henry had indeed been drinking hard all night to keep up his spirits.