"My God!" said Tabary; and he began to pray in Latin.
Villon broke out into hysterical laughter. He came a step forward
and ducked a ridiculous bow at Thevenin, and laughed still louder.
Then he sat down suddenly, all of a heap, upon a stool, and
continued laughing bitterly as though he would shake himself to
pieces.
Montigny recovered his composure first.
"Let's see what he has about him," he remarked; and he picked the
dead man's pockets with a practised hand, and divided the money
into four equal portions on the table. "There's for you," he said.
The monk received his share with a deep sigh, and a single stealthy
glance at the dead Thevenin, who was beginning to sink into himself
and topple sideways of the chair.
"We're all in for it," cried Villon, swallowing his mirth. "It's a
hanging job for every man jack of us that's here - not to speak of
those who aren't." He made a shocking gesture in the air with his
raised right hand, and put out his tongue and threw his head on one
side, so as to counterfeit the appearance of one who has been
hanged. Then he pocketed his share of the spoil, and executed a
shuffle with his feet as if to restore the circulation.
Tabary was the last to help himself; he made a dash at the money,
and retired to the other end of the apartment.
Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair, and drew out the
dagger, which was followed by a jet of blood.
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