"By the devil!" he cried, "I was not mistaken. It is he, the miserable villain! Don't you recognize him now, you fellows?"
"Yes, indeed we do!" repeated each of the troops in turn, as he examined Martin-Guerre's features with a curiosity which in every case changed at once to rage.
"Ah, you do recognize me at last, then?" rejoined the poor squire, who began to be seriously alarmed. "You know who I am? Martin Cornouiller of Angimont. And you are going to release me, are you not!"
"We release you, you villain, you rake, you gallows-bird!" cried the ensign, with flaming eyes and threatening fists.
"Well, well, what the deuce is the matter, my friend?" said Martin. "Perhaps I am no longer Martin Cornouiller?"
"No, you are not Martin Cornouiller," replied the ensign; "and to unmask you and prove you a liar, here are ten men standing around you, who know you well. My friends, tell this impostor his name, to convict him of deceit and infernal falsehood."
"It's Arnauld du Thill! it's that scoundrel, Arnauld du Thill!" the ten voices shouted in chorus with terrifying unanimity.
"Arnauld du Thill! What do you mean?" asked Martin, turning pale.
"Oh, yes, deny yourself now, you villain!" cried the ensign. "But luckily here are ten witnesses to contradict you. Before them, notwithstanding your peasant's dress, have you the face to declare that I didn't take you prisoner at the battle of St. Laurent in attendance upon the constable?"
"No, no, I am Martin Cornouiller," stammered Martin, who was beginning to lose his head.