Thanks to his enormous strength of muscle, as well as of soul, he reached Yvonnet without accident, and was at last able to place his feet beside those of Martin-Guerre.
"Will you go on or not?" said he to Yvonnet, in sharp and commanding tones.
"I am—dizzy," replied the poor wretch, whose teeth were chattering and his hair standing on end.
"Will you go on?" repeated Gabriel.
"Impossible!" said Yvonnet. "I feel as if my feet and hands were leaving the rounds to which they are clinging. I am going to fall."
"We will see," said Gabriel.
He pulled himself up as far as Yvonnet's waist, and pricked him in the back with the point of his sword.
"Can you feel the point of my sword?" he asked.
"Yes, Monseigneur! Oh, mercy! I am afraid. Mercy!"
"The blade is sharp and keen," continued Gabriel, with marvellous sang-froid. "At the least backward movement on your part it will bury itself in your body. Now listen, Yvonnet; Martin-Guerre will pass in front of you and I shall remain behind. If you do not follow Martin-Guerre,—mark well what I say: if you show one symptom of flinching, I swear by God above that you shall not fall and drag others down with you, for I will nail you to the wall with my sword, and hold you there until they have all passed over your body."