"Aren't we capable of defending ourselves? Do you think we need a gentleman from the town to tell us what we should do? Who asked your advice? And besides who asked you to come? Couldn't you stay at home?"
Christophe shrugged his shoulders and turned towards the door. But
Lorchen's father barred the way, screaming:
"That's it! That's it!" he shouted. "He would like to cut away now after getting us all into a scrape. He shan't go!"
The peasants roared:
"He shan't go! He's the cause of it all. He shall pay for it all!"
They surrounded him and shook their fists at him. Christophe saw the circle of threatening faces closing in upon him; fear had infuriated them. He said nothing, made a face of disgust, threw his hat on the table, went and sat at the end of the room, and turned his back on them.
But Lorchen was angry and flung herself at the peasants. Her pretty face was red and scowling with rage. She pushed back the people who were crowding round Christophe:
"Cowards! Brute beasts!" she cried. "Aren't you ashamed? You want to pretend that he brought it all on you! As if they did not see you all! As if there was a single one of you who had not hit out his hand as he could!… If there had been a man who had stayed with his arms folded while the others were fighting I would spit in his face and call him: Coward! Coward!…"
The peasants, surprised by this unexpected outburst, stayed for a moment in silence; they began to shout again:
"He began it! Nothing would have happened but for him."