The miller uttered not a word.  He turned away and looked into space with an air of indifference, as if the officer had not addressed him.  This brought the latter’s rage to a head.

“Very well!” he shouted.  “You shall be shot in his place!”

And he again ordered out the platoon of execution.  Pere Merlier remained as stoical as ever.  He hardly even shrugged his shoulders; all this drama appeared to him in bad taste.  Without doubt he did not believe that they would shoot a man so lightly.  But when the platoon drew up before him he said gravely: 

“So it is serious, is it?  Go on with your bloody work then!  If you must have a victim I will do as well as another!”

But Francoise started up, terrified, stammering: 

“In pity, monsieur, do no harm to my father!  Kill me in his stead!  I aided Dominique to fly!  I alone am guilty!”

“Hush, my child!” cried Pere Merlier.  “Why do you tell an untruth?  She passed the night locked in her chamber, monsieur.  She tells a falsehood, I assure you!”

“No, I do not tell a falsehood!” resumed the young girl ardently.  “I climbed out of my window and went down the iron ladder; I urged Dominique to fly.  This is the truth, the whole truth!”

The old man became very pale.  He saw clearly in her eyes that she did not lie, and her story terrified him.  Ah, these children with their hearts, how they spoil everything!  Then he grew angry and exclaimed: 

“She is mad; do not heed her.  She tells you stupid tales.  Come, finish your work!”

She still protested.  She knelt, clasping her hands.  The officer tranquilly watched this dolorous struggle.

“Mon dieu!” he said at last.  “I take your father because I have not the other.  Find the fugitive and the old man shall be set at liberty!”

She gazed at him with staring eyes, astonished at the atrocity of the proposition.

“How horrible!” she murmured.  “Where do you think I can find Dominique at this hour?  He has departed; I know no more about him.”

“Come, make your choice—­him or your father.”

“Oh, Mon dieu!  How can I choose?  If I knew where Dominique was I could not choose!  You are cutting my heart.  I would rather die at once.  Yes, it would be the sooner over.  Kill me, I implore you, kill me!”

This scene of despair and tears finally made the officer impatient.  He cried out: 

“Enough!  I will be merciful.  I consent to give you two hours.  If in that time your lover is not here your father will be shot in his place!”

He caused Pere Merlier to be taken to the chamber which had served as Dominique’s prison.  The old man demanded tobacco and began to smoke.  Upon his impassible face not the slightest emotion was visible.  But when alone, as he smoked, he shed two big tears which ran slowly down his cheeks.  His poor, dear child, how she was suffering!