"But you! You were the Cure who
got the mob together last All Souls'."
"I speak the words of Him Who sent me!" answered the third Churchman,
whose brooding face and dull curtained eyes gave no promise of the fits
of frenzied eloquence which had made his pulpit famous in Paris.
"Then Kill and Burn are His alphabet!" Tavannes retorted, and heedless of
the start of horror which a saying so near blasphemy excited among the
Churchmen, he turned to Father Pezelay. "And you! You, too, I know!" he
continued. "And you know me! And take this from me. Turn, father!
Turn! Or worse than a broken head--you bear the scar, I see--will befall
you. These good persons, whom you have moved, unless I am in error, to
take this journey, may not know me; but you do, and can tell them. If
they will to Angers, they must to Angers. But if I find trouble in
Angers when I come, I will hang some one high. Don't scowl at me,
man!"--in truth, the look of hate in Father Pezelay's eyes was enough to
provoke the exclamation. "Some one, and it shall not be a bare patch on
the crown will save his windpipe from squeezing!"
A murmur of indignation broke from the preachers' attendants; one or two
made a show of drawing their weapons. But Count Hannibal paid no heed to
them, and had already turned on his heel when Father Pezelay spurred his
mule a pace or two forward.
Pages:
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316