THE VINTAGE
But stop the riot first, if you can. I desire bloodshed no: more than you."
The group had now collected round them, still waiting irresolutely, in the way a crowd does on any one who seems to haye authority. Father Andréa turned to them.
"You foolish children," he cried, "what are you doing? The Sultan has added a tax, it is true, but will it profit you to be killed like dogs? You have knives, and you can cut a finger nail with knives, and these others have guns. This poor dead thing learned that, and he has paid for his lesson. Is it better for him that he has wounded another man now that he has gone to appear before God? And those of you who are not shot will be taken and hanged. I am here unarmed, as it befits a priest to be. I am a hostage for you. If there is further riot you yourselves will be shot down like dogs, or as you shoot the little foxes among the grapes and leave them for the crows to eat; I shall be hanged, for I go hostage for you; and the tax will be no less than before. So now to your homes."
The crowd listened silently—for in those days to behave with aught but respect to a priest was sacrilege—and one or two of the nearest put back their knives into their belts, yet stood there still irresolute.
"Come, every man to his home," said Andréa again. "Let those who have wine-shops close them, for there has been blood spilled to-night."
But they still stood there, and the murmur rose and died, and rose again like a sound carried on a gusty wind, until Andréa, pushing forward, laid his hand on the shoulder of one of the ringleaders.
"Christos," he said, "there is your home, and your wife waits for you. Go home, man, lest you are carried in feet first."
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