BOOK ELEVENTH.
CHAPTER 1. THE LITTLE SHOE.
(continued)
"Let me have the other, madam; 'tis monsieur the provost
who wills it."
She repeated with a look of madness,--
"There is no one here."
"I tell you that there is!" replied the executioner. "We
have all seen that there are two of you."
"Look then!" said the recluse, with a sneer. "Thrust
your head through the window."
The executioner observed the mother's finger-nails and
dared not.
"Make haste!" shouted Tristan, who had just ranged his
troops in a circle round the Rat-Hole, and who sat on his
horse beside the gallows.
Rennet returned once more to the provost in great embarrassment.
He had flung his rope on the ground, and was twisting his hat
between his hands with an awkward air.
"Monseigneur," he asked, "where am I to enter?"
"By the door."
"There is none."
"By the window."
"'Tis too small."
"Make it larger," said Tristan angrily. "Have you not pickaxes?"
The mother still looked on steadfastly from the depths of
her cavern. She no longer hoped for anything, she no longer
knew what she wished, except that she did not wish them to
take her daughter.
Rennet Cousin went in search of the chest of tools for the
night man, under the shed of the Pillar-House. He drew
from it also the double ladder, which he immediately set up
against the gallows. Five or six of the provost's men armed
themselves with picks and crowbars, and Tristan betook himself,
in company with them, towards the window.
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