Then, seeing the naked and bloody corpses of his men, he cried
out, "Murdered basely, in cold blood!"
"That was how you murdered Louis XVI., monsieur," said the marquis.
"Monsieur," replied Gerard, haughtily, "there are mysteries in a
king's trial which you could never comprehend."
"Do you dare to accuse the king?" exclaimed the marquis.
"Do you dare to fight your country?" retorted Gerard.
"Folly!" said the marquis.
"Parricide!" exclaimed the Republican.
"Well, well," cried Merle, gaily, "a pretty time to quarrel at the
moment of your death."
"True," said Gerard, coldly, turning to the marquis. "Monsieur, if it
is your intention to put us to death, at least have the goodness to
shoot us at once."
"Ah! that's like you, Gerard," said Merle, "always in a hurry to
finish things. But if one has to travel far and can't breakfast on the
morrow, at least we might sup."
Gerard sprang forward without a word towards the wall. Pille-Miche
covered him, glancing as he did so at the motionless marquis, whose
silence he took for an order, and the adjutant-major fell like a tree.
Marche-a-Terre ran to share the fresh booty with Pille-Miche; like two
hungry crows they disputed and clamored over the still warm body.
"If you really wish to finish your supper, captain, you can come with
me," said the marquis to Merle.
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