"Let's find out if the precious object is of silver," said one of the men, and pulling aside the monk's gown he drew forth, in spite of his struggles, a crucifix of silver, richly gilded.
"Just as I thought, the devil has plenty of gold."
"Let me see it," said an old veteran. "I know something about monks' tricks."
As he pressed a little spring in the image's breast, a keen dagger sprang from it. As if bitten by an adder, he threw the crucifix from him. Rage and horror seized the bystanders.
"Hang the serpent by his own rope," shouted the men.
"There is no tree," said one, "and no one is allowed to leave the lines."
"Drown him!"
"There is no water."
"Stab him!"
No one was willing, from aversion, to touch the monk.