"Now that I have made known to you my ultimatum, don't you dare to stir," he said. "Lie there, base reptile that you are! You may be very sure that I shall not amuse myself at present by killing you. Crawl at your leisure over the ground, under my feet You will have to die, anyhow. And then you will find out what nonsense your curé has been telling you. Away with you into the great mystery, peasant!"
And he sprang into the hall of the lower story.
"One can't see his hand before him," he grumbled.
Chante-en-hiver was convulsively writhing and moaning in his agony. Radoub looked back.
"Silence! Will you please to keep still, citizen without knowing it? I have nothing more to do with you; for I should scorn to put an end to your life. Now, leave me in peace."
And as he stood watching Chante-en-hiver, he plunged his hands restlessly into his hair.
"What am I to do? This is all very well, but here I am disarmed. I had two shots to fire, and you have wasted them, animal that you are. And besides, the smoke is so thick that it makes my eyes water;" and accidentally touching his tom ear, he cried out with pain.
"You have not gained much by getting my ear," he continued; "in fact, I would rather lose that than any other member; it's only an ornament, any way. You have scratched my shoulder, too, but that's of no consequence. You may die in peace, rustic; I forgive you."
He listened. The noise in the lower hall was frightful. The fight was raging more wildly than ever.
"Things are progressing downstairs. Hear them yelling 'Long live the King!' It must be acknowledged that they die nobly."