CHAPTER XXXIII. THE LAW OF RETALIATION
"Now, general," said Roland, when supper was over and the two young men,with their elbows on the table and their legs stretched out before theblazing fire, began to feel that comfortable sensation that comes of ameal which youth and appetite have seasoned. "Now for your promise toshow me things which I can report to the First Consul."
"You promised, remember, not to object to them."
"Yes, but I reserve the right, in case you wound my conscience tooseverely, to withdraw."
"Only give time to throw a saddle on the back of your horse, or of mine,if yours is too tired, colonel, and you are free."
"Very good."
"As it happens," said Cadoudal, "events will serve you. I am here, notonly as general, but as judge, though it is long since I have had a caseto try. You told me, colonel, that General Brune was at Nantes; I knewit. You told me his advanced guard was only twelve miles away, at LaRoche-Bernard; I knew that also. But a thing you may not know is thatthis advanced guard is not commanded by a soldier like you and me, butby citizen Thomas Milliere, Commissioner of the Executive authorities.Another thing of which you may perhaps be ignorant is that citizenThomas Milliere does not fight like us with cannon, guns, bayonets,pistols and swords, but with an instrument invented by your Republicanphilanthropists, called the guillotine."
"It is impossible, sir," cried Roland, "that under the First Consul anyone can make that kind of war."
"Ah! let us understand each other, colonel. I don't say that the FirstConsul makes it; I say it is made in his name."
"And who is the scoundrel that abuses the authority given him, to makewar with a staff of executioners?"
"I have told you his name; he is called Thomas Milliere. Question whomyou please, colonel, and throughout all Vendee and Brittany you'll hearbut one voice on that man. From the day of the rising in Vendee andBrittany, now six years ago, Milliere has been, always and everywhere,the most active agent of the Terror. For him the Terror did not end withRobespierre. He denounced to his superiors, or caused to be denouncedto himself, the Breton and Vendean soldiers, their parents, friends,brothers, sisters, wives, even the wounded and dying; he shot orguillotined them all without a trial. At Daumeray, for instance, he lefta trail of blood behind him which is not yet, can never be, effaced.More than eighty of the inhabitants were slaughtered before his eyes.Sons were killed in the arms of their mothers, who vainly stretchedthose bloody arms to Heaven imploring vengeance. The successivepacifications of Brittany and Vendee have never slaked the thirst formurder which burns his entrails. He is the same in 1800 that he was in1793. Well, this man--"
Roland looked at the general.
"This man," continued the general, with the utmost calmness, "is to die.Seeing that society did not condemn him, I have condemned him."
"What! Die at La Roche-Bernard, in the midst of the Republicans; inspite of his bodyguard of assassins and executioners?"
"His hour has struck; he is to die."
Cadoudal pronounced these words with such solemnity that no doubtremained in Roland's mind, not only as to the sentence, but also theexecution of it. He was thoughtful for an instant.
"And you believe that you have, the right to judge and condemn that man,guilty as he is?"
"Yes; for that man has judged and condemned, not the guilty but theinnocent."
"If I said to you: 'On my return to Paris I will demand the arrest andtrial of that man,' would you not trust my word?"
"I would trust your word; but I should say to you: 'A maddened wildbeast escapes from its cage, a murderer from his prison; men are men,subject to error. They have sometimes condemned the innocent, they mightspare the guilty.' My justice is more certain than yours, colonel, forit is the justice of God. The man will die."
"And by what right do you claim that your justice, the justice of a manliable to error like other men, is the justice of God?"
"Because I have made God a sharer in that justice. Oh! my condemnationof that man is not of yesterday."
"How do you mean?"
"In the midst of a storm when thunder roared without cessation, and thelightning flashed from minute to minute, I raised my arms to heaven, andI said to God: 'O God! whose look is that lightning, whose voice is thatthunder, if this man ought to die, extinguish that lightning, still thethunder for ten minutes. The silence of the skies, the darkness of theheavens shall be thy answer!' Watch in hand, I counted eleven minuteswithout a flash or a sound. I saw at the point of a promontory a boat,tossed by a terrible tempest, a boat with but one man in it, in dangerevery minute of sinking; a wave lifted it as the breath of an infantlifts a plume, and cast it on the rocks. The boat flew to pieces; theman clung to the rock, and all the people cried out: 'He is lost!' Hisfather was there, his two brothers were there, but none dared to succorhim. I raised my arms to the Lord and said: 'If Milliere is condemned byThee as by me, O God, let me save that man; with no help but thine letme save him!' I stripped, I knotted a rope around my arm, and I swam tothe rock. The water seemed to subside before my breast. I reached theman. His father and brothers held the rope. He gained the land. I couldhave returned as he did, fastening the rope to the rocks. I flung itaway from me; I trusted to God and cast myself into the waves. Theyfloated me gently and surely to the shore, even as the waters of theNile bore Moses' basket to Pharaoh's daughter. The enemy's outposts werestationed around the village of Saint-Nolf; I was hidden in the woods ofGrandchamp with fifty men. Recommending my soul to God, I left the woodsalone. 'Lord God,' I said, 'if it be Thy will that Milliere die, letthat sentry fire upon me and miss me; then I will return to my men andleave that sentry unharmed, for Thou wilt have been with him for aninstant.' I walked to the Republican; at twenty paces he fired andmissed me. Here is the hole in my hat, an inch from my head; the handof God had aimed that weapon. That happened yesterday. I thought thatMilliere was at Nantes. To-night they came and told me that Milliere andhis guillotine were at La Roche-Bernard. Then I said: 'God has broughthim to me; he shall die.'"
Roland listened with a certain respect to the superstitious narrativeof the Breton leader. He was not surprised to find such beliefs and suchpoetry in a man born in face of a savage sea, among the Druid monumentsof Karnac. He realized that Milliere was indeed condemned, and that God,who had thrice seemed to approve his judgment, alone could save him. Butone last question occurred to him.
"How will you strike him?" he asked.
"Oh!" said Georges, "I do not trouble myself about that; he will beexecuted."
One of the two men who had brought in the supper table now entered theroom.
"Brise-Bleu," said Cadoudal, "tell Coeur-de-Roi that I wish to speak tohim."
Two minutes later the Breton presented himself.
"Coeur-de-Roi," said Cadoudal, "did you not tell me that the murdererThomas Milliere was at Roche-Bernard?"
"I saw him enter the town side by side with the Republican colonel, whodid not seem particularly flattered by such companionship."
"Did you not add that he was followed by his guillotine?"
"I told you his guillotine followed between two cannon, and I believe ifthe cannon could have got away the guillotine would have been left to goits way alone."
"What precautions does Milliere take in the towns he visits?"
"He has a special guard about him, and the streets around his house arebarricaded. He carries pistols always at hand."
"In spite of that guard, in spite of that barricade and the pistols,will you undertake to reach him?"
"I will, general."
"Because of his crimes, I have condemned that man; he must die."
"Ah!" exclaimed Coeur-de-Roi, "the day of justice has come at last!"
"Will you undertake to execute my sentence, Coeur-de-Roi?"
"I will, general."
"Go then, Coeur-de-Roi. Take the number of men you need; devise whatstratagem you please, but reach the man, and strike."
"If I die, general--"
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sp; "Fear not; the curate of Leguerno shall say enough masses in yourbehalf to keep your poor soul out of purgatory. But you will not die,Coeur-de-Roi."
"That's all right, general. Now that I am sure of the masses, I asknothing more. I have my plan."
"When will you start?"
"To-night."
"When will he die?"
"To-morrow."
"Go. See that three hundred men are ready to follow me in half an hour."
Coeur-de-Roi went out as simply as he had entered.
"You see," said Cadoudal, "the sort of men I command. Is your FirstConsul as well served as I, Monsieur de Montrevel?"
"By some, yes."
"Well, with me it is not some, but all."
Benedicite entered and questioned Georges with a look.
"Yes," replied Georges, with voice and nod.
Benedicite went out.
"Did you see any one on your way here?" asked Cadoudal.
"Not one."
"I asked for three hundred men in half an hour, and they will be herein that time. I might have asked for five hundred, a thousand, twothousand, and they would have responded as promptly."
"But," said Roland, "you have, in number at least, a limit you cannotexceed."
"Do you want to know my effective? It is easily told, I won't tell youmyself, for you wouldn't believe me. Wait. I will have some one tellyou."
He opened the door and called out: "Branche-d'Or!"
Two seconds later Branche-d'Or appeared.
"This is my major-general," said Cadoudal, laughing. "He fulfils thesame functions for me that General Berthier does for the First Consul.Branche-d'Or--"
"General."
"How many men are stationed along the road from here to LaRoche-Bernard, which the gentleman followed in coming to see me?"
"Six hundred on the Arzal moor, six hundred among the Marzan gorse,three hundred at Peaule, three hundred at Billiers."
"Total, eighteen hundred. How many between Noyal and Muzillac?"
"Four hundred."
"Two thousand two hundred. How many between here and Vannes?"
"Fifty at Theix, three hundred at the Trinite, six hundred between theTrinite and Muzillac."
"Three thousand two hundred. And from Ambon to Leguerno?"
"Twelve hundred."
"Four thousand four hundred. And in the village around me, in thehouses, the gardens, the cellars?"
"Five to six hundred, general."
"Thank you, Benedicite."
He made a sign with his head and Benedicite went out.
"You see," said Cadoudal, simply, "about five thousand. Well, with thosefive thousand men, all belonging to this country, who know every tree,every stone, every bush, I can make war against the hundred thousand menthe First Consul threatens to send against me."
Roland smiled.
"You think that is saying too much, don't you?"
"I think you are boasting a little, general; boasting of your men,rather."
"No; for my auxiliaries are the whole population. None of your generalscan make a move unknown to me; send a despatch without my interceptingit; find a retreat where I shall not pursue him. The very soil isroyalist and Christian! In default of the inhabitants, it speaks andtells me: 'The Blues passed here; the slaughterers are hidden there!'For the rest, you can judge for yourself."
"How?"
"We are going on an expedition about twenty-four miles from here. Whattime is it?"
Both young men looked at their watches.
"Quarter to twelve," they said together.
"Good!" said Georges, "our watches agree; that is a good sign. Perhapssome day our hearts will do the same."
"You were saying, general?"
"I was saying that it was a quarter to twelve, colonel; and that at sixo'clock, before day, we must be twenty miles from here. Do you want torest?"
"I!"
"Yes; you can sleep an hour."
"Thanks; it's unnecessary."
"Then we will start whenever you are ready."
"But your men?"
"Oh! my men are ready."
"Where?"
"Everywhere."
"I should like to see them."
"You shall."
"When?"
"Whenever agreeable to you. My men are very discreet, and never showthemselves till I make the signal."
"So that whenever I want to see them--"
"You will tell me; I shall give the signal and they'll appear."
"Let us start, general."
"Yes, let us start."
The two young men wrapped themselves in their cloaks and went out. Atthe door Roland collided against a small group of five men. These fivemen wore Republican uniforms; one of them had sergeant stripes on hissleeve.
"What is all this?" asked Roland.
"Nothing," replied Cadoudal, laughing.
"But who are these men?"
"Coeur-de-Roi and his party; they are starting on that expedition youknow of."
"Then they expect by means of this uniform--"
"Oh! you shall know all, colonel; I have no secrets from you." Then,turning to the little group, Cadoudal called: "Coeur-de-Roi!"
The man with the stripes on his sleeves left the group, and came toCadoudal.
"Did you call me, general?" asked the pretended sergeant.
"Yes, I want to know your plan."
"Oh! general, it is very simple."
"Let me judge of that."
"I put this paper in the muzzle of my gun." Coeur-de-Roi showed a largeenvelope with an official red seal, which had once, no doubt, containedsome Republican despatch intercepted by the Chouans. "I present myselfto the sentries, saying: 'Despatch from the general of division.'I enter the first guardhouse and ask to be shown the house of thecitizen-commissioner; they show me, I thank them; always best to bepolite. I reach the house, meet a second sentry to whom I tell the sametale as to the first; I go up or down to citizen Milliere accordinglyas he lives in the cellar or the garret. I enter without difficulty, youunderstand--'Despatch from the general of division'. I find him in hisstudy or elsewhere, present my paper, and while he opens it, I kill himwith this dagger, here in my sleeve."
"Yes, but you and your men?"
"Ah, faith! In God's care; we are defending his cause, it is for him totake care of us."
"Well, you see, colonel," said Cadoudal, "how easy it all is. Let usmount, colonel! Good luck, Coeur-de-Roi!"
"Which of these two horses am I to take?" asked Roland.
"Either; one is as good as the other; each has an excellent pair ofEnglish pistols in its holsters."
"Loaded?"
"And well-loaded, colonel; that's a job I never trust to any one."
"Then we'll mount."
The two young men were soon in their saddles, and on the road to Vannes;Cadoudal guiding Roland, and Branche-d'Or, the major-general of thearmy, as Georges called him, following about twenty paces in the rear.
When they reached the end of the village, Roland darted his eyes alongthe road, which stretches in a straight line from Muzillac to theTrinite. The road, fully exposed to view, seemed absolutely solitary.
They rode on for about a mile and a half, then Roland said: "But wherethe devil are your men?"
"To right and left, before and behind us."
"Ha, what a joke!"
"It's not a joke, colonel; do you think I should be so rash as to riskmyself thus without scouts?"
"You told me, I think, that if I wished to see your men I had only tosay so."
"I did say so."
"Well, I wish to see them."
"Wholly, or in part?"
"How many did you say were with you?"
"Three hundred."
"Well, I want to see one hundred and fifty."
"Halt!" cried Cadoudal.
Putting his hands to his mouth he gave the hoot of the screech-owl,followed by the cry of an owl; but he threw the hoot to the right andthe cry to the left.
/> Almost instantly, on both sides of the road, human forms could be seenin motion, bounding over the ditch which separated the bushes from theroad, and then ranging themselves beside the horses.
"Who commands on the right?" asked Cadoudal.
"I, Moustache," replied a peasant, coming near.
"Who commands on the left?" repeated the general.
"I, Chante-en-hiver," replied another peasant, also approaching him.
"How many men are with you, Moustache?"
"One hundred."
"How many men are with you, Chante-en-hiver?"
"Fifty."
"One hundred and fifty in all, then?" asked Georges.
"Yes," replied the two Breton leaders.
"Is that your number, colonel?" asked Cadoudal laughing.
"You are a magician, general."
"No; I am a poor peasant like them; only I command a troop in whicheach brain knows what it does, each heart beats singly for the two greatprinciples of this world, religion and monarchy." Then, turning to hismen, Cadoudal asked: "Who commands the advanced guard?"
"Fend-l'air," replied the two Chouans.
"And the rear-guard?"
"La Giberne."
The second reply was made with the same unanimity as the first.
"Then we can safely continue our way?"
"Yes, general; as if you were going to mass in your own village."
"Let us ride on then, colonel," said Cadoudal to Roland. Then turning tohis men he cried: "Be lively, my lads."
Instantly every man jumped the ditch and disappeared. For a few secondsthe crackling of twigs on the bushes, and the sound of steps among theunderbrush, was heard. Then all was silent.
"Well," asked Cadoudal, "do you think that with such men I have anythingto fear from the Blues, brave as they may be?"
Roland heaved a sigh; he was of Cadoudal's opinion.
They rode on. About three miles from Trinite they caught sight of ablack spot approaching along the road with great rapidity. As it becamemore distinct this spot stopped suddenly.
"What is that?" asked Roland.
"As you see, a man," replied Cadoudal.
"Of course; but who is this man?"
"You might have guessed from the rapidity of his coming; he is amessenger."
"Why does he stop?"
"Because he has seen us, and does not know whether to advance orretreat."
"What will he do?"
"Wait before deciding."
"For what?"
"A signal."
"Will he answer the signal?"
"He will not only answer but obey it. Will you have him advance orretreat; or will you have him step aside."
"I wish him to advance; by that means we shall know the news he brings."
Cadoudal gave the call of the cuckoo with such perfection that Rolandlooked about him for the bird.
"It was I," said Cadoudal, "you need not look for it."
"Is the messenger going to come?"
"Not-going to, he is coming."
The messenger had already started, and was rapidly approaching; in a fewseconds he was beside his general.
"Ah!" said the latter, "is that you, Monte-a-l'assaut?"
The general stooped, and Monte-a-l'assaut said a few words in his ear.
"Benedicite has already warned me," said Georges. Then turning toRoland, he said, "Something of importance is to happen in the village ofthe Trinite in a quarter of an hour, which you ought to see. Come, hurryup."
And, setting the example, he put his horse to a gallop. Roland did thesame.
When they reached the village they could see from a distance, by thelight of some pine torches, a tumultuous mob in the market square. Thecries and movements of this mob bespoke some grave occurrence.
"Fast, fast!" cried Cadoudal.
Roland asked no better; he dug his spurs in his horse's belly.
At the clatter of horses' hoofs the peasants scattered. There were fiveor six hundred of them at least, all armed.
Cadoudal and Roland found themselves in a circle of light in the midstof cries and agitation.
The crowd was pressing more particularly toward the opening of a streetwhich led to the village of Tridon. A diligence was coming down thatstreet escorted by a dozen Chouans; two on either side of the postilion,ten others guarding the doors. The carriage stopped in the middle of themarket-square. All were so intent upon the diligence that they paid butscant attention to Cadoudal.
"Hola," shouted Georges. "What is all this?"
At this well known voice, everyone turned round, and heads wereuncovered.
"The Big Round Head!" they murmured.
"Yes," said Cadoudal.
A man went up to Georges.
"Didn't Benedicite and Monte-a-l'assaut notify you?" he inquired.
"Yes. Is that the diligence from Ploermel to Vannes that you arebringing back?"
"Yes, general. It was stopped between Trefleon and Saint-Nolf."
"Is he in it?"
"We think so."
"Act according to your consciences; if it is a crime toward God, takeit on yourselves; I take only the responsibility toward men. I willbe present at what takes place; but I will not share in it--either tohinder or help."
"Well," demanded a hundred voices, "what does he say, Sabre-tout?"
"He says we must act according to our consciences, and that he washeshis hands of it."
"Long live the Big Round Head!" cried all the people, rushing toward thediligence.
Cadoudal remained motionless in the midst of this crowd. Roland stoodnear him, also motionless, but full of curiosity; for he was completelyignorant of who, or what, was in question.
The man who had just spoken to Cadoudal, and whom his companions calledSabre-tout, opened the door. The travellers were huddled together andtrembling in the darkness within.
"If you have nothing to reproach yourselves with against God or theking," said Sabre-tout in a full sonorous voice, "descend without fear.We are not brigands, we are Christians and royalists."
This declaration no doubt reassured the travellers, for a man gotout, then two women, then a mother pressing her child in her arms, andfinally another man. The Chouans examined them attentively as they camedown the carriage steps; not finding the man they wanted, they said toeach traveller, "Pass on."
One man alone remained in the coach. A Chouan thrust a torch in thevehicle, and by its light they could see he was a priest.
"Minister of the Lord," said Sabre-tout, "why did you not descend withthe others? Did you not hear me say we were Christians and royalists?"
The priest did not move; but his teeth chattered.
"Why this terror?" continued Sabre-tout. "Does not your cloth plead foryou? The man who wears a cassock can have done nothing against royaltyor 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 Christiansspeak to a man of God!"
"That man," said Cadoudal, "is not a man of God, but a man of thedevil."
"Who is he, then?"
"Both an atheist and a regicide; he denied his God and voted for thedeath 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 diligenceand opened. They took the bishop's robes from it, and handed them toAudrein, who put them on. Then, when every vestment was in its place,the peasants ranged themselves in a circle, each with his musket in hishand. The glare of the torches was reflected on the barrels, castingevil gleams.
Two men took the priest and led him into the circle, supporting himbeneath his arms. He was pale as death. There was a moment of lugubrioussilence.
A voice broke it. It was that of Sabre-tout.
"We are about to judge you," said the Chouan. "Priest of God, you havebetrayed the Church; child of France, you have condemned your king todeath."
"Alas! alas!" stammered the priest.
"Is it true?"
"I do not deny it."
"Because it is impossible to deny. What have you to say injustification?"
"Citizens--"
"We are not citizens," cried Sabre-tout, in a voice thunder, "we areroyalists."
"Gentlemen--"
"We are not gentlemen; we are Chouans."
"My friends--"
"We are not your friends; we are your judges. You judges are questioningyou; 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, butnever your heart. You have nothing to expect from men but death; as forGod, implore his mercy."
The regicide bowed his head; the renegade bent his knee. But suddenlydrawing himself up, he cried: "I voted the king's death, it is true, butwith a reservation--"
"What reservation?"
"The time of the execution."
"Sooner or later, it was still the king's death which you voted, and theking was innocent."
"True, true," said the priest, "but I was afraid."
"Then you are not only a regicide, and an apostate, but also a coward.We are not priests, but we are more just than you. You voted the deathof the innocent; we vote the death of the guilty. You have ten minutesin which to prepare to meet your God."
The bishop gave a cry of terror and fell upon both knees; the churchbells rang, as if of their own impulse, and two of the men present,accustomed to the offices of the church, intoned the prayers for thedying. It was some time before the bishop found words with which torespond. He turned affrighted glances in supplication to his judges oneafter the other, but, not one face met his with even the consolationof mere pity. The torches, flickering in the wind, lent them, on thecontrary, a savage and terrible expression. Then at last he mingled hisvoice with the voices that were praying for him.
The judges allowed him time to follow the funeral prayer to its close.In the meantime others were preparing a pile of wood.
"Oh!" cried the priest, beholding these preparations with growingterror; "would you have the cruelty to kill me thus?"
"No," replied his inflexible accuser, "flames are the death of martyrs;you are not worthy of such a death. Apostate, the hour has come!"
"Oh, my God! my God!" cried the priest, raising his arms to heaven.
"Stand up!" said the Chouan.
The priest tried to obey, but his strength failed him, and he fell againto his knees.
"Will you let that murder be done before your eyes?" Roland askedCadoudal.
"I said that I washed my hands of it," replied the latter.
"Pilate said that, and Pilate's hands are to this day red with the bloodof Jesus Christ."
"Because Jesus Christ was a righteous man; this man is a Barabbas."
"Kiss your cross! kiss your cross!" cried Sabre-tout.
The prelate looked at him with a terrified air, but without obeying. Itwas evident that he no longer saw, no longer heard.
"Oh!" cried Roland, making an effort to dismount, "it shall never besaid that I let a man be murdered before me, and did not try to, savehim."
A threatening murmur rose around him; his words had been overheard. Thatwas all that was needed to excite the young man.
"Ah! is that the way of it?" he cried, carrying his hand to one of hisholsters.
But with a movement rapid as thought, Cadoudal seized his hand, and,while Roland struggled vainly to free himself from this grip of iron, heshouted: "Fire!"
Twenty shots resounded instantly, and the bishop fell, an inert mass.
"Ah!" cried Roland. "What have you done?"
"Forced you to keep your promise," replied Cadoudal; "you swore to seeall and hear all without offering any opposition."
"So perish all enemies of God and the king," said Sabre-tout, in asolemn voice.
"Amen!" responded the spectators with one voice of sinister unanimity.
Then they stripped the body of its sacerdotal ornaments, which theyflung upon the pile of wood, invited the other travellers to take theirplaces in the diligence, replaced the postilion in his saddle, and,opening their ranks to give passage to the coach, cried: "Go with God!"
The diligence rolled rapidly away.
"Come, let us go," cried Cadoudal, "we have still twelve miles to do,and we have lost an hour here." Then, addressing the executioners, hesaid: "That man was guilty; that man is punished. Human justice anddivine justice are satisfied. Let prayers for the dead be said over hisbody, and give him Christian burial; do you hear?" And sure of beingobeyed, Cadoudal put his horse to a gallop.
Roland seemed to hesitate for a moment whether to follow him or not;then, as if resolving to accomplish a duty, he said: "I will go to theend."
Spurring his horse in the direction taken by Cadoudal he reached theChouan leader in a few strides. Both disappeared in the darkness, whichgrew thicker and thicker as the men left the place where the torcheswere illuminating the dead priest's face and the fire was consuming hisvestments.