"Name the murderer."
At those words, the priest closed his hand fast on the crucifix, and rallied his sinking courage.
"Never!" he said firmly. "The knowledge I possess was obtained in the confessional. The secrets of the confessional are sacred. If I betray them, I commit sacrilege. I will die first!"
"Think!" said Jean. "If you keep silence, you screen the murderer. If you keep silence, you are the murderer's accomplice. We have sworn over our father's dead body to avenge him—if you refuse to speak, we will avenge him on you. I charge you again, name the man who killed him."
"I will die first," the priest reiterated, as firmly as before.
"Die then!" said Jean. "Die in that cauldron of boiling oil."
"Give him time," cried Louis and Thomas, earnestly pleading together.
"We will give him time," said the younger brother. "There is the clock yonder, against the wall. We will count five minutes by it. In those five minutes, let him make his peace with God—or make up his mind to speak."
They waited, watching the clock. In that dreadful interval, the priest dropped on his knees and hid his face. The time passed in dead silence.
"Speak! for your own sake, for our sakes, speak!" said Thomas Siadoux, as the minute hand reached the point at which the five minutes expired.