your cloth plead for
you? The man who wears a cassock can have done nothing against royalty
or religion."

The priest crouched back, murmuring: "Mercy! mercy!"

"Why mercy?" demanded Sabre-tout, "do you feel that you are guilty,
wretch?"

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Roland, "is that how you royalists and Christians
speak to a man of God!"

"That man," said Cadoudal, "is not a man of God, but a man of the
devil."

"Who is he, then?"

"Both an atheist and a regicide; he denied his God and voted for the
death of the king. That is the Conventional Audrein."

Roland shuddered. "What will they do?" he asked.

"He gave death, he will receive death," answered Cadoudal.

During this time the Chouans had pulled Audrein out of the diligence.

"Ha! is it you, bishop of Vannes?" cried Sabre-tout.

"Mercy!" begged the bishop.

"We were informed of your arrival, and were waiting for you."

"Mercy!" repeated the bishop for the third time.

"Have you your pontifical robes with you?"

"Yes, my friends, I have."

"Then dress yourself as a prelate; it is long since we have seen one."

A trunk marked with the prelate's name was taken from the diligence
and opened. They took the bishop's robes from it, and handed them to
Audrein, who put them on. Then, when every vestment was in its place,
the peasants ranged themselves in a circle, each with his musket in his
hand. The glare of the torches was reflected on the barrels, casting
evil gleams.

Two men took the priest and led him into the circle, supporting him
beneath his arms. He was pale as death. There was a moment of lugubrious
silence.

A voice broke it. It was that of Sabre-tout.

"We are about to judge you," said the Chouan. "Priest of God, you have
betrayed the Church; child of France, you have condemned your king to
death."

"Alas! alas!" stammered the priest.

"Is it true?"

"I do not deny it."

"Because it is impossible to deny. What have you to say in
justification?"

"Citizens--"

"We are not citizens," cried Sabre-tout, in a voice thunder, "we are
royalists."

"Gentlemen--"

"We are not gentlemen; we are Chouans."

"My friends--"

"We are not your friends; we are your judges. You judges are questioning
you; answer."

"I repent of what I did, and I ask pardon of God and men."

"Men cannot pardon you," replied the same implacable voice; "for,
pardoned to-day, you would sin to-morrow. You may change your skin, but
never your heart. You have not