"There! there! the sergeant!" repeated the Chourineur, retreating step by step, with his eyes fixed and haggard, and pointing with his finger as if at some invisible phantom. Then uttering a fearful cry, as if the spectre had touched him, he rushed to the bottom of the butchery, into the darkest corner; and there, with his face, breast, and arms against the wall, as if he would break through it to escape from so horrible a vision, he repeated, in a hollow and convulsive tone, "Oh, the sergeant! the sergeant! the sergeant!" CHAPTER XX. THE DEPARTURE. Thanks to the care of Murphy and Rodolph, who with difficulty calmed his agitation, the Chourineur was completely restored to himself, and was alone with the prince in one of the rooms on the first floor in the house. "My lord," said he, despondingly, "you have been very kind, indeed, to me; but, hear me: I would rather be a thousand times more wretched than I have yet been than become a butcher." "Yet reflect a little." "Why, my lord, when I heard the cry of the poor animal which could not make the slightest resistance; when I felt its blood spring into my face,--hot blood, which seemed as coming from a living thing; you cannot imagine what I felt; then I had my dream all over again,--the sergeant and those poor young fellows whom I cut and stabbed, who made no defence, and died giving me a look so gentle, so gentle that they seemed as if they pitied me! My lord, it would drive me mad!" And the poor fellow hid his face in his hands with a convulsive start. "Come, come, calm yourself." "Excuse me, my lord; but just now the sight of blood--of a knife--I could not bear; at every instant it would renew those dreams which I was beginning to forget. To have every day my hands and feet in blood, to cut the throats of poor animals who do not so much as make a struggle--oh, no, no! I could not for the world. I would rather lose my eyesight at once, like the Schoolmaster, than be compelled to follow such a business." It is impossible to depict the energetic gesture, action, and countenance of the Chourineur, as he thus expressed himself. Rodolph was deeply affected by it, and satisfied with the horrible effect which the sight of the blood had caused to his protégé. For a moment the savage feeling, the bloodthirsty instinct, had overcome the human being in the Chourineur; but remorse eventually overwhelmed the instinct. That was as it should be, and it was a fine lesson. "Forgive me, my lord," said the Chourineur, in a faltering voice; "I make but a bad recompense for all your kindness to me, but--" "Not at all, my good fellow; I told you that our bargain was conditional. I selected for you the business of a butcher, because your inclinations and taste seemed to lie in that direction--" "Alas! my lord, that's true; and, had it not been for what you know of, that would have been the trade of all others I should have chosen. I was only saying so to M. Murphy a little while since."