Not once did they slip or tremble.
"Open your mouth!" snarled the pikemen and the torch-bearers, with the
fierce gestures of men who have wasted time and patience.
"The Lamp of Heaven!" bawled the swordsman, beside himself. "Give him
the Lamp of Heaven!"
To the others, this phrase acted as a spark to powder.
"Good! good!" they shrilled, nodding furiously. "The Lamp of Heaven!"
And several men began to rummage and overhaul the chaos of the go-down.
Rudolph had given orders, that afternoon, to remove all necessary stores
to the nunnery. But from somewhere in the darkness, one rioter brought a
sack of flour, while another flung down a tin case of petroleum. The
sword had no sooner cut the sack across and punctured the tin, than a
fat villain in a loin cloth, squatting on the earthen floor, kneaded
flour and oil into a grimy batch of dough.
"Will you speak out and live," cried the swordsman, "or will you die?"
For a second the Christian did not stir. Then, as though the option were
not in his power,--
"Die," he answered.
The fat baker sprang up, and clapped on the obstinate head a shapeless
gray turban of dough.
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