Then he stopped short, trembling lest he had said too much.
“Well, Jew or Pagan, what does it matter which, if he have dealings with the Devil, as they say he has?”
“I should readily believe it,” rejoined the hermit, with a sarcastic smile, not quite hidden by his cowl, “if he were not such a coward. But how could he covenant with Satan? He is as cowardly as he is wicked. When fear takes possession of him, he actually forgets his own identity.”
The hermit spoke slowly, as if with intention, the very deliberation of his words lending them peculiar force.
“He forgets his own identity!” mentally repeated Spiagudry.
“It’s a pity for a bad man to be a coward,” said the hangman; “for he’s not worth hating. We fight a serpent, but we can only crush a lizard.”
Spiagudry ventured a few words in his own defence.
“But, gentlemen, are you sure that the official of whom you speak is really what you say? Is his reputation so bad?”
“His reputation!” repeated the hermit; “he has the worst reputation of any man in the district!”
Benignus, in his disappointment, turned to the hangman.