soner!"

To save Father d'Aigrigny, Gabriel would have allowed himself to be
massacred at the entrance of the choir; but, a little further on, the
railing, not above four feet in height, would in another instant be
scaled or broken through. The Missionary lost all hope of saving the
Jesuit from a frightful death. Yet he exclaimed: "Stop, poor deluded
people!"--and, extending his arms, he threw himself in front of the
crowd.

His words, gesture, and countenance, were expressive of an authority
at once so affectionate and so fraternal, that there was a momentary
hesitation amongst the mob. But to this hesitation soon succeeded the
most furious cries of "Death; death!"

"You cry for his death?" cried Gabriel, growing still paler.

"Yes! yes!"

"Well, let him die," cried the missionary, inspired with a sudden
thought; "let him die on the instant!"

These words of the young priest struck the crowd with amazement. For a
few moments, they all stood mute, motionless, and as it were, paralyzed,
looking at Gabriel in stupid astonishment.

"This man is guilty, you say," resumed the young missionary, in a voice
trembling with emotion. "You have condemned him without proof, without
witnesses--no matter, he must die. You reproach him with being a
poisoner; where are his victims? You cannot tell--but no matter; he is
condemned. You refuse to hear his defense, the sacred right of every
accused person--no matter; the sentence is pronounced. You are at once
his accusers, judges, and executioners. Be it so!--You have never seen
till now this unfortunate man, he has done you no harm, he has perhaps
not done harm to any one--yet you take upon yourselves the terrible
responsibility of his death--understand me well--of his death. Be it so
then! your conscience will absolve you--I will believe it. He must die;
the sacredness of God's house will not save him--"

"No, no!" cried many furious voices.

"No," resumed Gabriel, with increasing warmth; "no you have determined
to shed his blood, and you will shed it, even in the Lord's temple. It
is, you say, your right. You are doing an act of terrible justice. But
why then, so many vigorous arms to make an end of one dying man? Why
these outcries? this fury? this violence? Is it thus that the people,
the strong and equitable people, are wont to execute their judgments?
No, no; when sure of their right, they strike their enemies, it is
with the calmness of the judge, who, in freedom of soul