Then, like a body which recovers its centre of gravity, he became motionless once more, but his words betrayed no less agitation. His voice grew lower and lower.
"Do not turn your head aside thus. Listen to me. It is a serious matter. In the first place, here is what has happened.--All this will not be laughed at. I swear it to you.--What was I saying? Remind me! Oh!--There is a decree of Parliament which gives you back to the scaffold. I have just rescued you from their hands. But they are pursuing you. Look!"
He extended his arm toward the City. The search seemed, in fact, to be still in progress there. The uproar drew nearer; the tower of the lieutenant's house, situated opposite the Grève, was full of clamors and light, and soldiers could be seen running on the opposite quay with torches and these cries, "The gypsy! Where is the gypsy! Death! Death!"
"You see that they are in pursuit of you, and that I am not lying to you. I love you.--Do not open your mouth; refrain from speaking to me rather, if it be only to tell me that you hate me. I have made up my mind not to hear that again.--I have just saved you.--Let me finish first. I can save you wholly. I have prepared everything. It is yours at will. If you wish, I can do it."
He broke off violently. "No, that is not what I should say!"
As he went with hurried step and made her hurry also, for he did not release her, he walked straight to the gallows, and pointed to it with his finger,-"Choose between us two," he said, coldly.
She tore herself from his hands and fell at the foot of the gibbet, embracing that funereal support, then she half turned her beautiful head, and looked at the priest over her shoulder. One would have said that she was a Holy Virgin at the foot of the cross. The priest remained motionless, his finger still raised toward the gibbet, preserving his attitude like a statue. At length the gypsy said to him,-"It causes me less horror than you do."
Then he allowed his arm to sink slowly, and gazed at the pavement in profound dejection.
"If these stones could speak," he murmured, "yes, they would say that a very unhappy man stands here.
He went on. The young girl, kneeling before the gallows, enveloped in her long flowing hair, let him speak on without interruption. He now had a gentle and plaintive accent which contrasted sadly with the haughty harshness of his features.