You
will answer for him to me," he added, turning to Pille-Miche; "for if
he does wrong I shall take it out on the thing that fills your
goatskin."
"But, Monsieur Marche-a-Terre, with all due respect," said
Galope-Chopine, "haven't you sometimes taken a counterfeit Chouan for
a real one."
"My friend," said Marche-a-Terre in a curt tone, "don't let that
happen in your case, or I'll cut you in two like a turnip. As to the
emissaries of the Gars, they all carry his glove, but since that
affair at La Vivetiere the Grande Garce has added a green ribbon to
it."
Pille Miche nudged his comrade by the elbow and showed him d'Orgemont,
who was pretending to be asleep; but Pille-Miche and Marche-a-Terre
both knew by experience that no one ever slept by the corner of their
fire, and though the last words said to Galope-Chopine were almost
whispered, they must have been heard by the victim, and the four
Chouans looked at him fixedly, thinking perhaps that fear had deprived
him of his senses.
Suddenly, at a slight sign from Marche-a-Terre, Pille-Miche pulled off
d'Orgemont's shoes and stockings, Mene-a-Bien and Galope-Chopine
seized him round the body and carried him to the fire. Then
Marche-a-Terre took one of the thongs that tied the fagots and fastened
the miser's feet to the crane. These actions and the horrible celerity
with which they were done brought cries from the victim, which became
heart-rending when Pille-Miche gathered the burning sticks under his
legs.
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