The Golden Dog [290]
not kill Le Gardeur de Repentigny!" She called several citizens by name and entreated them to help to save him.
By her sudden interference Angelique caused a diversion in the crowd. Le Gardeur rose up to his feet, and many persons recognized him with astonishment and incredulity, for no one could believe that he had killed the good Bourgeois, who was known to have been the warm friend of the whole family of De Repentigny.
De Pean, taking advantage of the sudden shift of feeling in the crowd and anxious for the safety of Angelique, seized the bridle of her horse to drag her forcibly out of the press, telling her that her words had been heard and in another instant the whole mob would turn its fury upon her, and in order to save her life she must fly.
"I will not fly, De Pean. You may fly yourself, for you are a coward. They are going to kill Le Gardeur, and I will not forsake him. They shall kill me first."
"But you must! You shall fly! Hark! Le Gardeur is safe for the present. Wheel your horse around, and you will see him standing up yonder quite safe! The crowd rather believe it was I who killed the Bourgeois, and not Le Gardeur! I have a soul and body to be saved as well as he!"
"Curse you, soul and body, De Pean! You made me do it! You put those hellish words in my mouth! I will not go until I see Le Gardeur safe!"
Angelique endeavored frantically to approach Le Gardeur, and could not, but as she looked over the surging heads of the people she could see Le Gardeur standing up, surrounded by a ring of agitated men who did not appear, however, to threaten him with any injury,-- nay, looked at him more with wonder and pity than with menace of injury.
He was a prisoner, but Angelique did not know it or she would not have left him. As it was, urged by the most vehement objurgations of De Pean, and seeing a portion of the crowd turning their furious looks towards herself as she sat upon her horse, unable either to go or stay, De Pean suddenly seized her rein, and spurring his own horse, dragged her furiously in spite of herself out of the tumult. They rode headlong to the casernes of the Regiment of Bearn, where they took refuge for the moment from the execrations of the populace.
The hapless Le Gardeur became suddenly sobered and conscious of the enormity of his act. He called madly for death from the raging crowd. He held out his hands for chains to bind a murderer, as he called himself! But no one would strike him or offer to bind him. The wrath of the people was so mingled with blank astonishment at his demeanor, his grief and his despair were so evidently genuine and so deep, that many said he was mad, and more an object of pity than of punishment.
At his own reiterated command, he was given over to the hands of some soldiers and led off, followed by a great crowd of people, to the main guard of the Castle of St. Louis, where he was left a prisoner, while another portion of the multitude gathered about the scene of the tragedy, surrounded the body of the Bourgeois, which was lifted off the ground and borne aloft on men's shoulders, followed by wild cries and lamentations to the House of the Golden Dog,--the house which he had left but half an hour before, full of life, vigor and humanity, looking before and after as a strong man looks who has done his duty, and who feels still able to take the world upon his shoulders and carry it, if need were.
The sad procession moved slowly on amid the pressing, agitated crowd, which asked and answered a hundred eager questions in a breath. The two poor Recollet brothers, Daniel and Ambrose, walked side by side before the bleeding corpse of their friend, and stifled their emotions by singing, in a broken voice that few heard but themselves, the words of the solitary hymn of St. Francis d'Assisi, the founder of their order:
"Praised be the Lord, by our sweet sister Death, From whom no man escapes, howe'er he try! Woe to all those who yield their parting breath In mortal sin! But blessed those who die
By her sudden interference Angelique caused a diversion in the crowd. Le Gardeur rose up to his feet, and many persons recognized him with astonishment and incredulity, for no one could believe that he had killed the good Bourgeois, who was known to have been the warm friend of the whole family of De Repentigny.
De Pean, taking advantage of the sudden shift of feeling in the crowd and anxious for the safety of Angelique, seized the bridle of her horse to drag her forcibly out of the press, telling her that her words had been heard and in another instant the whole mob would turn its fury upon her, and in order to save her life she must fly.
"I will not fly, De Pean. You may fly yourself, for you are a coward. They are going to kill Le Gardeur, and I will not forsake him. They shall kill me first."
"But you must! You shall fly! Hark! Le Gardeur is safe for the present. Wheel your horse around, and you will see him standing up yonder quite safe! The crowd rather believe it was I who killed the Bourgeois, and not Le Gardeur! I have a soul and body to be saved as well as he!"
"Curse you, soul and body, De Pean! You made me do it! You put those hellish words in my mouth! I will not go until I see Le Gardeur safe!"
Angelique endeavored frantically to approach Le Gardeur, and could not, but as she looked over the surging heads of the people she could see Le Gardeur standing up, surrounded by a ring of agitated men who did not appear, however, to threaten him with any injury,-- nay, looked at him more with wonder and pity than with menace of injury.
He was a prisoner, but Angelique did not know it or she would not have left him. As it was, urged by the most vehement objurgations of De Pean, and seeing a portion of the crowd turning their furious looks towards herself as she sat upon her horse, unable either to go or stay, De Pean suddenly seized her rein, and spurring his own horse, dragged her furiously in spite of herself out of the tumult. They rode headlong to the casernes of the Regiment of Bearn, where they took refuge for the moment from the execrations of the populace.
The hapless Le Gardeur became suddenly sobered and conscious of the enormity of his act. He called madly for death from the raging crowd. He held out his hands for chains to bind a murderer, as he called himself! But no one would strike him or offer to bind him. The wrath of the people was so mingled with blank astonishment at his demeanor, his grief and his despair were so evidently genuine and so deep, that many said he was mad, and more an object of pity than of punishment.
At his own reiterated command, he was given over to the hands of some soldiers and led off, followed by a great crowd of people, to the main guard of the Castle of St. Louis, where he was left a prisoner, while another portion of the multitude gathered about the scene of the tragedy, surrounded the body of the Bourgeois, which was lifted off the ground and borne aloft on men's shoulders, followed by wild cries and lamentations to the House of the Golden Dog,--the house which he had left but half an hour before, full of life, vigor and humanity, looking before and after as a strong man looks who has done his duty, and who feels still able to take the world upon his shoulders and carry it, if need were.
The sad procession moved slowly on amid the pressing, agitated crowd, which asked and answered a hundred eager questions in a breath. The two poor Recollet brothers, Daniel and Ambrose, walked side by side before the bleeding corpse of their friend, and stifled their emotions by singing, in a broken voice that few heard but themselves, the words of the solitary hymn of St. Francis d'Assisi, the founder of their order:
"Praised be the Lord, by our sweet sister Death, From whom no man escapes, howe'er he try! Woe to all those who yield their parting breath In mortal sin! But blessed those who die