Sailor lifted Jules with the aid of two comrades. They propped him against a massive pillar of wood which supported the cellar roof. They bound their wretched victim to it with strong cords.
Meanwhile, Ernestine was unwinding the gag.
"Take your places on the tribunal!" commanded Nibet.
"And you others, a glass of pick-me-up for the fellow!"
The pick-me-up intended to restore Jules to consciousness was brought by Mother Toulouche, under the form of a large earthen pot full of cold water. She dashed the water in the prisoner's face.
Jules slowly opened his eyes and regained his wits, amidst an ominous silence. The band watched his return to life with evil smiles: they quietly watched his pallid face turn a livid green with terror.
The wretched creature could not utter a syllable. He stared wildly at those about him, his friends of yesterday, at those seated on the mock judgment bench who, crouching forward, were observing him with sardonic smiles.
Nibet put a question.
"You hear and understand us, Jules?"
"Pity!" howled the victim.