That first cry which I have risked among men, I cast almost as a visionary, but almost as a dumb man.

The old peasant did not even turn his earthy, gigantic head.
And I hear a roar of applause go by, of popular expanse.
I go up to join Marie, mingling with the crowd; I divide serried knots of them.

Suddenly there is profound silence, and every one stands immovable.

Up there the Bishop is on his feet.

He raises his forefinger and says, "The dead are not dead.