And such was the resolve of many others, but it was not that of Ribault.
“What!” exclaimed one of his friendly counsellors—“he has shown you our slain comrades, butchered under the very arrangement which he accords to us, and yet you trust to him?”
The infatuated leader, broken in spirit, and utterly exhausted in the struggle with fate, replied:
“That he has freely shown me what he has done, is no proof that he designs any such deeds hereafter. His fury is satiated. It is impossible that he will commit a like crime of this nature. It is his pride that would have us wholly in his power.”
“He hath fed on blood until he craves it,” cried Alphonse D’Erlach. “You go to your death, Monsieur Ribault. The tiger invites you to a banquet where the guest brings the repast.”
He was unheard, at least by the Huguenot general.
“We will leave this man, my friends,” cried Alphonse D’Erlach, the strong will and great heart naturally rising to command in the moment of extremity. “We will leave this man. Quem Deus vult perdere prius dementat. He goes to the sacrifice!”
And when Ribault prepared in the morning to lead his people across the bay, he found but an hundred and fifty of all the force that he commanded during the previous day. Two hundred had disappeared in the night under the guidance of D’Erlach.