“Hold it firmly by the horns,” said the huntsman, “and lift up one of its front feet.” And as he gave the word, the second huntsman drew from its sheath a little knife which he carried in his belt, and began carefully sharpening it on the grindstone which Thibault used for his tools. “What are you going to do?” asked the shoe-maker, feeling somewhat uneasy about these preparations. “What! don’t you know,” said Engoulevent, “that there is a little bone in the shape of a cross inside a goat’s heart, which, if crushed into powder, is a sovereign remedy for apoplexy?” “You intend to kill my goat?” exclaimed Thibault, at the same time leaving hold of the goat’s horns, and dropping its foot, “but I will not have it killed.” “Fie, fie!” said Engoulevent, “that is not at all a becoming speech, Monsieur Thibault, would you value the life of our good master as of no more worth than that of your wretched goat? I am truly ashamed for you.” “It’s easy for you to talk. This goat is all I have to depend upon, the only thing I possess. She gives me milk, and I am fond of her.” “Ah! Monsieur Thibault, you cannot be thinking of what you are saying--it is fortunate that the Baron does not hear you--for he would be broken-hearted to know that his precious life was being bargained for in that miserly way.” “And besides,” said one of the prickers with a sneering laugh, “if Master Thibault values his goat at a price which he thinks only my lord can pay, there is nothing to prevent him coming to the castle of Vez to claim this payment. The account can be settled with what was left over as due to him yesterday.” Thibault knew that he could not get the better of these men, unless he again called the devil to his aid; but he had just received such a lesson from Satan, that there was no fear of his exposing himself, at all events for a second time the same day, to similar good offices. His one desire for the time being was not to wish any sort of ill to anyone of those present. One man dead, another nearly so--Thibault found this lesson enough. Consequently, he kept his eyes turned away from the menacing and jeering countenances around him, for fear of being aggravated beyond control. While his back was turned, the poor goat’s throat was cut, her piteous cry alone informing him of the fact; and it was no sooner killed than its heart, which had hardly ceased throbbing, was opened in search of the little bone of which Engoulevent had spoken. This found, it was ground into powder, mixed with vinegar diluted with thirteen drops of gall from the bladder containing it, the whole stirred together in a glass with the cross of a rosary, and then poured gently down the Baron’s throat, after his teeth had been forced apart with the blade of a dagger. The effect of the draught was immediate and truly miraculous. The Lord of Vez sneezed, sat up, and said in a voice, intelligible though still a little husky: “Give me something to drink.”