Don't stand there grinning at me. Get that flag, or
I'll make you."
"What is impossible, my son, is possible to God alone. Apud
homines hoc impossible est, apud Deum autem omnia possibilia
sunt."
"None of your Jesuit Latin or logic to me--I am not here to argue,
but to command. Get that flag. Be in a hurry about it, sir."
He whipped out his sword, and in his half drunken eyes there
gathered the dull film of murderous passion.
"Put up your weapon, Captain; you will not attack an unarmed
priest. You are a soldier, and will not dare strike an old,
defenceless man."
"But I will strike a black-robed and black-hearted French rebel.
Get that flag, you grinning fool!"
The two men stood facing each other. Father Beret's eyes did not
stir from their direct, fearless gaze. What Farnsworth had called
a grin was a peculiar smile, not of merriment, a grayish flicker
and a slight backward wrinkling of the cheeks. The old man's arms
were loosely crossed upon his sturdy breast.
"Strike if you must," he said very gently, very firmly. "I never
yet have seen the man that could make me afraid." His speech was
slightly sing-song in tone, as it would have been during a prayer
or a blessing.
"Get the flag then!" raged Farnsworth, in whose veins the heat of
liquor was aided by an unreasoning choler.
"I cannot," said Father Beret.
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