"Good! we will be ready for them," said Martin-Guerre.
As he spoke he triumphantly placed one knee upon the ledge of stone.
"Ah!" cried the sentinel, suddenly, trying to get a better view of him in the darkness; "what is your name?"
"Why! Martin-Guerre—"
He did not finish what he was saying, for Pierre Peuquoy (it was no other than he) gave him no time to put the other knee beside its fellow, but giving him a violent push with both hands, hurled him headlong into the abyss.
"Holy Jesus!" was all that poor Martin-Guerre said.
Then he fell without a sound, concentrating all his energies in a sublime effort to change the course of his fall so as not to endanger the safety of his companions and his master.
Yvonnet, who followed him, and who recovered all his courage and boldness as soon as he felt the solid rock beneath his feet, leaped upon the platform, followed by Gabriel and all the others.
Pierre Peuquoy made no further opposition. He remained standing as if turned to stone, and unconscious of what was passing.
"Wretch!" cried Gabriel, seizing him by the arm, and shaking him; what insane fury has taken possession of you "What has Martin-Guerre done to you?"