After these solemn, mournful words, every tongue was still, every head lowered, Gaspard de Coligny's like the others, and even to a greater degree than the others. It was in truth a heavy burden which the syndic of weavers put upon him; and he could not forbear a shudder as he thought of all these lives with which he was thus made chargeable.
"I see by your silence, my friends and brothers," continued Jean Peuquoy, "that you understand and approve what I have said; but one cannot expect husbands and fathers to pronounce sentence aloud upon their wives and children. To say nothing is to make a favorable reply. You will allow Monsieur l'Amiral to make orphans of your children and widows of your wives; but you cannot pronounce their sentence yourselves, is it not so? It is quite right too. Say nothing and die. No one would be so brutal as to require you to cry: 'Meure St. Quentin!' But if your patriotic hearts beat, as I believe they do, in unison with mine, you can at least cry, 'Vive la France!'"
"Vive la France!" echoed a few voices, as feeble as the wailing of children, and as mournful as sobs.
Then Gaspard de Coligny, deeply moved, and in a state of intense agitation, rose hastily from his seat.
"Listen to me; listen!" he cried: "I will not accept such a fearful responsibility alone. I was able to resist you when you wished to yield to the enemy, but when you do yield to me, I can no longer discuss the question; and since every soul in this assembly is of a contrary opinion to that which I hold, and since you all deem the sacrifice useless—"
"I believe, may God forgive me," broke in a loud voice from the crowd, "that even you are about to speak of giving up the town, Monsieur l'Amiral."
CHAPTER XXVII
GABRIEL AT WORK
"Who dares thus to interrupt me?" demanded Gaspard de Coligny, with a gathering frown.
"I!" said a man, attired in the costume of a peasant of the suburbs of St. Quentin, making his way forward through the crowd.