"Swine!" he said. "Kill me! They'll cut your heads off."
He went on shouting. The man who had been ripped up screamed like a bleeding pig. The third was stiff and still like a dead man. A crushing terror came over the peasants. Lorchen and some women carried the wounded men to another room. The shouts of the officer and the screams of the dying man died away. The peasants were silent; they stood fixed in the circle as though the three bodies were still lying at their feet; they dared not budge and looked at each other in panic. At last Lorchen's father said:
"You have done a fine piece of work!"
There was an agonized murmuring; their throats were dry. Then they began all to talk at once. At first they whispered as though they were afraid of eavesdroppers, but soon they raised their voices and became more vehement; they accused each other; they blamed each other for the blows they had struck. The dispute became acrid; they seemed to be on the point of going for each other. Lorchen's father brought them to unanimity. With his arms folded he turned towards Christophe and jerked his chin at him:
"And," he said, "what business had this fellow here?"
The wrath of the rabble was turned on Christophe:
"True! True!" they cried. "He began it! But for him nothing would have happened."
Christophe was amazed. He tried to reply:
"You know perfectly that what I did was for you, not for myself."
But they replied furiously: