It must have been a magnificent yet appalling sight to witness in the darkness and storm these fourteen apparently dumb creatures, like so many demons, scaling the black wall, at whose summit was possible death, while sure destruction awaited them at its base.
At the one hundred and fiftieth round Yvonnet stopped, and all the others did the same. It was agreed beforehand that they should halt at that point long enough for each to say two Paters and two Aves.
When Martin-Guerre had finished his devotions, he was amazed to see that Yvonnet did not stir. He thought he must have missed his count, and reproving himself for his haste, he began conscientiously a third Pater and a third Ave.
But still Yvonnet remained motionless. Then—although they were only about a hundred feet from the platform, and it was dangerous to speak—Martin-Guerre struck Yvonnet's legs, and said to him,—
"Go on, pray."
"No, I cannot," said Yvonnet, in a stifled voice.
"You can't, villain! Why not?" asked Martin, shuddering.
"I am dizzy," said Yvonnet.
A cold perspiration broke out in beads on Martin's forehead.
It was a moment before he could make up his mind what to do. If Yvonnet should have the vertigo and fall, they would all be carried down with him; to descend was no less hazardous. Martin felt himself to be incapable of assuming any responsibility whatever at such a terrible crisis. He leaned over to Anselme, who was next behind him, and said,—