Tell lowered his bow, and a sigh of relief went through the crowd.
"My eyes are swimming," he said; "I cannot see."
Then he turned to the Governor.
"I cannot shoot," he said; "bid your soldiers kill me."
"No," said Gessler--"no, Tell. That is not at all what I want. If I had wished my soldiers to kill you, I should not have waited for a formal invitation from you. I have no desire to see you slain. Not at present. I wish to see you shoot. Come, Tell, they say you can do everything, and are afraid of nothing. Only the other day, I hear, you carried a man, one Baumgartner--that was his name, I think--across a rough sea in an open boat. You may remember it? I particularly wished to catch Baumgartner, Tell. Now, this is a feat which calls for much less courage. Simply to shoot an apple off a boy's head. A child could do it."
While he was speaking, Tell had been standing in silence, his hands trembling and his eyes fixed, sometimes on the Governor, sometimes on the sky. He now seized his quiver, and taking from it a second arrow, placed it in his belt. Gessler watched him, but said nothing.
"Shoot, father!" cried Walter from the other end of the lane; "I'm not afraid."
Tell, calm again now, raised his bow and took a steady aim. Everybody craned forward, the front ranks in vain telling those behind that there was nothing to be gained by pushing. Gessler bent over his horse's neck and peered eagerly towards Walter. A great hush fell on all as Tell released the string.
"Phut!" went the string, and the arrow rushed through the air.
A moment's suspense, and then a terrific cheer rose from the spectators.