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Probably, Monsieur Gabelle passed a long night up there, with the distant
chateau for fire and candle, and the beating at his door, combined with the
joy-ringing, for music; not to mention his having an ill-omened lamp slung
across the road before his posting-house gate, which the village showed a lively
inclination to displace in his favour. A trying suspense, to be passing a whole
summer night on the brink of the black ocean, ready to take that plunge into it
upon which Monsieur Gabelle had resolved! But, the friendly dawn appearing at
last, and the rush-candles of the village guttering out, the people happily
dispersed, and Monsieur Gabelle came down bringing his life with him for that
while.
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Monsieur Gabelle must have spent a long night up on his roof, with the burning
chateau providing his light, the banging on his door, and the ringing of the
alarm bell. Not to mention the fact that on the road in front of his posting
house gate hung a streetlamp, which the village wanted to replace with his
hanging corpse. It was a stressful situation, to be spending an entire summer
night on the brink of death, waiting to jump off his roof! But dawn finally
appeared and the candles in the village burned out. The people all left, and
Monsieur Gabelle came down from his roof, still alive for the time being.
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Within a hundred miles, and in the light of other fires, there were other
functionaries less fortunate, that night and other nights, whom the rising sun
found hanging across once-peaceful streets, where they had been born and bred;
also, there were other villagers and townspeople less fortunate than the mender
of roads and his fellows, upon whom the functionaries and soldiery turned with
success, and whom they strung up in their turn. But, the fierce figures were
steadily wending East, West, North, and South, be that as it would; and
whosoever hung, fire burned. The altitude of the gallows that would turn to
water and quench it, no functionary, by any stretch of mathematics, was able to
calculate successfully.
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Less than a hundred miles away, there were other fires burning and other local
officials who weren’t as lucky as Monsieur Gabelle. That night and other nights,
when the sun rose, these officials were found hanging in the once-peaceful
streets, where they had been born and raised. Also, there were other villagers
and townspeople less fortunate than the repairer of roads and his companions,
whom the officials and soldiers defeated and hanged. Regardless, the four fierce
figures who had lit the fire were steadily making their way in four different
directions—east, west, north, and south—and wherever someone was hanged, fire
burned. How many people would have to die to satisfy them no official could
say.
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