The Cardinal endeavoured to pass through the crowd, but though some made way for him on account of his ecclesiastical dignity, others closed in, and he found it impossible to move more than a few steps.  Then Vergniaud, moved by a sudden resolve, raised himself a little, and resting one hand on the shoulder of Manuel, who still remained on the steps of the pulpit in front of him, he called,

“Let Monsieur the assassin come here to me!  I have a word to say to him!”

Through the swaying, tumultuous, murmuring throng came a sudden stillness, and everyone drew back as the gendarmes responding to Abbe Vergniaud’s command, pushed their way along, dragging and hustling their prisoner between them,—­a young black-browed, black-eyed peasant with a handsome face and proud bearing, whose defiant manner implied that having made one fierce struggle for liberty and finding it in vain, he was now disdainfully resigned to the inevitable.  When brought face to face with the Abbe he lifted his head, and flashed his dark eyes upon him with a look of withering contempt.  His lips parted,—­he seemed about to speak when his glance accidentally fell upon Manuel,—­then something caused him to hesitate,—­he checked himself on the very verge of speech and remained silent.  The Abbe surveyed him with something of a quizzical half-admiring smile, then addressing the gendarmes he said,

“Let him go!”

The men looked up astonished, doubting whether they had heard aright.

“Let him go!” repeated the Abbe firmly, “I have no accusation to make against him.  Had he killed me he would have been perfectly justified!  Let him go!”

“Cher Abbe!” remonstrated the Marquis Fontenelle, who had made himself one of the group immediately around the pulpit, “Is not this a mistake on your part?  Let me advise you not to be so merciful . . .”

“‘Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy’”! quoted the Abbe with a strange smile, while his breath came and went quickly, and his face grew paler as he spoke.  “Set him free, messieurs, if you please!  I decline to prosecute my own flesh and blood!  I will be answerable for his future conduct,—­I am entirely answerable for his past!  He is my son!”

XIV.

No one ever afterwards quite knew how the crowd in the church broke up and dispersed itself after this denouement.  For a few minutes the crush of people round the pulpit was terrific; all eyes were fixed on the young black-browed peasant who had so nearly been a parricide,—­and on the father who publicly exonerated him,—­and then there came a pressing towards the doors which was excessively dangerous to life and limb.  Cardinal Bonpre, greatly moved by the whole unprecedented scene, placed himself in front of Angela as a shield and defence from the crowd; but before he had time to consider how he should best pilot her through the pushing and scrambling