Gessler, who had been fidgeting on his horse for some time, now spoke again, urging Tell to hurry.
"Begin!" he cried--"begin!"
"Immediately," replied Tell, fitting the arrow to the string.
Gessler began to mock him once more.
"You see now," he said, "the danger of carrying arms. I don't know if you have ever noticed it, but arrows very often recoil on the man who carries them. The only man who has any business to possess a weapon is the ruler of a country--myself, for instance. A low, common fellow--if you will excuse the description--like yourself only grows proud through being armed, and so offends those above him. But, of course, it's no business of mine. I am only telling you what I think about it. Personally, I like to encourage my subjects to shoot; that is why I am giving you such a splendid mark to shoot at. You see, Tell?"
Tell did not reply. He raised his bow and pointed it. There was a stir of excitement in the crowd, more particularly in that part of the crowd which stood on his right, for, his hand trembling for the first time in his life, Tell had pointed his arrow, not at his son, but straight into the heart of the crowd.
"Here! Hi! That's the wrong way! More to the left!" shouted the people in a panic, while Gessler roared with laughter, and bade Tell shoot and chance it.
"If you can't hit the apple or your son," he chuckled, "you can bring down one of your dear fellow-countrymen."