The Honor of the Name

  CHAPTER XXVII

  In the citadel of Montaignac, within the second line of fortifications,stands an old building known as the chapel.

  Originally consecrated to worship, the structure had, at the time ofwhich we write, fallen into disuse. It was so damp that it would noteven serve as an arsenal for an artillery regiment, for the guns rustedthere more quickly than in the open air. A black mould covered the wallsto a height of six or seven feet.

  This was the place selected by the Duc de Sairmeuse and the Marquis deCourtornieu for the assembling of the military commission.

  On first entering it, Maurice and the abbe felt a cold chill striketo their very hearts; and an indefinable anxiety paralyzed all theirfaculties.

  But the commission had not yet commenced its _seance_; and they had timeto look about them.

  The arrangements which had been made in transforming this gloomy hallinto a tribunal, attested the precipitancy of the judges and theirdetermination to finish their work promptly and mercilessly.

  The arrangements denoted an absence of all form; and one could divine atonce the frightful certainty of the result.

  Three large tables taken from the mess-room, and covered withhorse-blankets instead of tapestry, stood upon the platform. Someunpainted wooden chairs awaited the judges; but in the centre glitteredthe president's chair, a superbly carved and gilded fauteuil, sent bythe Duc de Sairmeuse.

  Several wooden benches had been provided for the prisoners.

  Ropes stretched from one wall to the other divided the chapel into twoparts. It was a precaution against the public.

  A superfluous precaution, alas!

  The abbe and Maurice had expected to find the crowd too great for thehall, large as it was, and they found the chapel almost unoccupied.

  There were not twenty persons in the building. Standing back in theshadow of the wall were perhaps a dozen men, pale and gloomy, a sullenfire smouldering in their eyes, their teeth tightly clinched. They werearmy officers retired on half pay. Three men, attired in black, wereconversing in low tones near the door. In a corner stood severalcountry-women with their aprons over their faces. They were weepingbitterly, and their sobs alone broke the silence. They were the mothers,wives, or daughters of the accused men.

  Nine o'clock sounded. The rolling of the drum made the panes of theonly window tremble. A loud voice outside shouted, "Present arms!" Themilitary commission entered, followed by the Marquis de Courtornieu andseveral civil functionaries.

  The duke was in full uniform, his face a little more crimson, and hisair a trifle more haughty than usual.

  "The session is open!" pronounced the Duc de Sairmeuse, the president.

  Then, in a rough voice, he added:

  "Bring in the culprits."

  He had not even the grace to say "the accused."

  They came in, one by one, to the number of twenty, and took their placeson the benches at the foot of the platform.

  Chanlouineau held his head proudly erect, and looked composedly abouthim.

  Baron d'Escorval was calm and grave; but not more so than when, in daysgone by, he had been called upon to express his opinion in the councilsof the Empire.

  Both saw Maurice, who was so overcome that he had to lean upon the abbefor support. But while the baron greeted his son with a simple bend ofthe head, Chanlouineau made a gesture that clearly signified:

  "Have confidence in me--fear nothing."

  The attitude of the other prisoners betrayed surprise rather than fear.Perhaps they were unconscious of the peril they had braved, and theextent of the danger that now threatened them.

  When the prisoners had taken their places, the chief counsel for theprosecution rose.

  His presentation of the case was characterized by intense violence, butlasted only five minutes. He briefly narrated the facts, exalted themerits of the government, of the Restoration, and concluded by a demandthat sentence of death should be pronounced upon the culprits.

  When he ceased speaking, the duke, addressing the first prisoner uponthe bench, said, rudely:

  "Stand up."

  The prisoner rose.

  "Your name and age?"

  "Eugene Michel Chanlouineau, aged twenty-nine, farmer by occupation."

  "An owner of national lands, probably?"

  "The owner of lands which, having been paid for with good money and madefertile by labor, are rightfully mine."

  The duke did not wish to waste time on discussion.

  "You have taken part in this rebellion?" he pursued.

  "Yes."

  "You are right in avowing it, for witnesses will be introduced who willprove this fact conclusively."

  Five grenadiers entered; they were the men whom Chanlouineau had held atbay while Maurice, the abbe, and Marie-Anne were entering the carriage.

  These soldiers declared upon oath that they recognized the accused; andone of them even went so far as to pronounce a glowing eulogium uponhim, declaring him to be a solid fellow, of remarkable courage.

  Chanlouineau's eyes during this deposition betrayed an agony of anxiety.Would the soldiers allude to this circumstance of the carriage? No; theydid not allude to it.

  "That is sufficient," interrupted the president.

  Then turning to Chanlouineau:

  "What were your motives?" he inquired.

  "We hoped to free ourselves from a government imposed upon us byforeigners; to free ourselves from the insolence of the nobility, and toretain the lands that were justly ours."

  "Enough! You were one of the leaders of the revolt?"

  "One of the leaders--yes."

  "Who were the others?"

  A faint smile flitted over the lips of the young farmer, as he replied:

  "The others were Monsieur Lacheneur, his son Jean, and the Marquis deSairmeuse."

  The duke bounded from his gilded arm-chair.

  "Wretch!" he exclaimed, "rascal! vile scoundrel!"

  He caught up a heavy inkstand that stood upon the table before him: andone would have supposed that he was about to hurl it at the prisoner'shead.

  Chanlouineau stood perfectly unmoved in the midst of the assembly, whichwas excited to the highest pitch by his startling declaration.

  "You questioned me," he resumed, "and I replied. You may gag me if myresponses do not please you. If there were witnesses _for_ me as thereare against me, I could prove the truth of my words. As it is, all theprisoners here will tell you that I am speaking the truth. Is it not so,you others?"

  With the exception of Baron d'Escorval, there was not one prisonerwho was capable of understanding the real bearing of these audaciousallegations; but all, nevertheless, nodded their assent.

  "The Marquis de Sairmeuse was so truly our leader," exclaimed the daringpeasant, "that he was wounded by a sabre-thrust while fighting by myside."

  The face of the duke was more purple than that of a man struck withapoplexy; and his fury almost deprived him of the power of speech.

  "You lie, scoundrel! you lie!" he gasped.

  "Send for the marquis," said Chanlouineau, tranquilly, "and see whetheror not he is wounded."

  A refusal on the part of the duke could not fail to arouse suspicion.But what could he do? Martial had concealed his wound the day before; itwas now impossible to confess that he had been wounded.

  Fortunately for the duke, one of the judges relieved him of hisembarrassment.

  "I hope, Monsieur, that you will not give this arrogant rebel thesatisfaction he desires. The commission opposes his demand."

  Chanlouineau laughed loudly.

  "Very naturally," he exclaimed. "To-morrow my head will be off, andyou think nothing will then remain to prove what I say. I have anotherproof, fortunately--material and indestructible proof--which it isbeyond your power to destroy, and which will speak when my body is sixfeet under ground."

  "What is the proof?" demanded another judge, upon whom the duke lookedaskance.

  The prisoner shook his head.

  "I wi
ll give it to you when you offer me my life in exchange for it,"he replied. "It is now in the hands of a trusty person, who knows itsvalue. It will go to the King if necessary. We would like tounderstand the part which the Marquis de Sairmeuse has played inthis affair--whether he was truly with us, or whether he was only aninstigating agent."

  A tribunal regardful of the immutable rules of justice, or even of itsown honor, would, by virtue of its discretionary powers, have instantlydemanded the presence of the Marquis de Sairmeuse.

  But the military commission considered such a course quite beneath itsdignity.

  These men arrayed in gorgeous uniforms were not judges charged with thevindication of a cruel law, but still a law--they were the instruments,commissioned by the conquerors, to strike the vanquished in the name ofthat savage code which may be summed up in two words: "_vae victis_."

  The president, the noble Duc de Sairmeuse, would not have consented tosummon Martial on any consideration. Nor did his associate judges wishhim to do so.

  Had Chanlouineau foreseen this? Probably. Yet, why had he ventured sohazardous a blow?

  The tribunal, after a short deliberation, decided that it would notadmit this testimony which had so excited the audience, and stupefiedMaurice and Abbe Midon.

  The examination was continued, therefore, with increased bitterness.

  "Instead of designating imaginary leaders," resumed the duke, "you woulddo well to name the real instigator of this revolt--not Lacheneur,but an individual seated upon the other end of the bench, the elderd'Escorval----"

  "Monsieur le Baron d'Escorval was entirely ignorant of the conspiracy, Iswear it by all that I hold most sacred----"

  "Hold your tongue!" interrupted the counsel for the prosecution."Instead of wearying the patience of the commission by such ridiculousstories, try to merit its indulgence."

  Chanlouineau's glance and gesture expressed such disdain that the manwho interrupted him was abashed.

  "I wish no indulgence," he said. "I have played, I have lost; here ismy head. But if you were not more cruel than wild beasts you would takepity on the poor wretches who surround me. I see at least ten among themwho were not our accomplices, and who certainly did not take up arms.Even the others did not know what they were doing. No, they did not!"

  Having spoken, he resumed his seat, proud, indifferent, and apparentlyoblivious to the murmur which ran through the audience, the soldiers ofthe guard and even to the platform, at the sound of his vibrant voice.

  The despair of the poor peasant women had been reawakened, and theirsobs and moans filled the immense hall.

  The retired officers had grown even more pale and gloomy; and tearsstreamed down the wrinkled cheeks of several.

  "That one is a man!" they were thinking.

  The abbe leaned over and whispered in the ear of Maurice:

  "Evidently Chanlouineau has some plan. He intends to save your father.How, I cannot understand."

  The judges were conversing in low tones with considerable animation.

  A difficulty had presented itself.

  The prisoners, ignorant of the charges which would be brought againstthem, and not expecting instant trial, had not thought of procuring adefender.

  And this circumstance, bitter mockery! frightened this iniquitoustribunal, which did not fear to trample beneath its feet the most sacredrules of justice.

  The judges had decided; their verdict was, as it were, rendered inadvance, and yet they wished to hear a voice raised in defence of thosewho were already doomed.

  It chanced that three lawyers, retained by the friends of several of theprisoners, were in the hall.

  They were the three men that Maurice, on his entrance, had noticedconversing near the door of the chapel.

  The duke was informed of this fact. He turned to them, and motioned themto approach; then, pointing to Chanlouineau:

  "Will you undertake this culprit's defence?" he demanded.

  For a moment the lawyers made no response. This monstrous _seance_ hadaroused a storm of indignation and disgust within their breasts, andthey looked questioningly at each other.

  "We are all disposed to undertake the prisoner's defence," at lastreplied the eldest of the three; "but we see him for the first time;we are ignorant of his grounds of defence. We must ask a delay; it isindispensable, in order to confer with him."

  "The court can grant you no delay," interrupted M. de Sairmeuse; "willyou accept the defence, yes or no?"

  The advocate hesitated, not that he was afraid, for he was a brave man:but he was endeavoring to find some argument strong enough to troublethe conscience of these judges.

  "I will speak in his behalf," said the advocate, at last, "but notwithout first protesting with all my strength against these unheard-ofmodes of procedure."

  "Oh! spare us your homilies, and be brief."

  After Chanlouineau's examination, it was difficult to improvise there,on the spur of the moment, a plea in his behalf. Still, his courageousadvocate, in his indignation, presented a score of arguments which wouldhave made any other tribunal reflect.

  But all the while he was speaking the Duc de Sairmeuse fidgeted in hisgilded arm-chair with every sign of angry impatience.

  "The plea was very long," he remarked, when the lawyer had concluded,"terribly long. We shall never get through with this business if eachprisoner takes up as much time!"

  He turned to his colleagues as if to consult them, but suddenly changinghis mind he proposed to the prosecuting counsel that he should uniteall the cases, try all the culprits in a body, with the exception of theelder d'Escorval.

  "This will shorten our task, for, in case we adopt this course, therewill be but two judgments to be pronounced," he said. "This will not, ofcourse, prevent each individual from defending himself."

  The lawyers protested against this. A judgment in a lump, like thatsuggested by the duke, would destroy all hope of saving a single one ofthese unfortunate men from the guillotine.

  "How can we defend them," the lawyers pleaded, "when we know nothing ofthe situation of each of the prisoners? we do not even know their names.We shall be obliged to designate them by the cut of their coats and bythe color of their hair."

  They implored the tribunal to grant them a week for preparation,four days, even twenty-four hours. Futile efforts! The president'sproposition was adopted.

  Consequently, each prisoner was called to the desk according to theplace which he occupied upon the benches. Each man gave his name, hisage, his abode, and his profession, and received an order to return tohis place.

  Six or seven prisoners were actually granted time to say that they wereabsolutely ignorant of the conspiracy, and that they had been arrestedwhile conversing quietly upon the public highway. They begged to beallowed to furnish proof of the truth of their assertions; they invokedthe testimony of the soldiers who had arrested them.

  M. d'Escorval, whose case had been separated from the others, was notsummoned to the desk. He would be interrogated last.

  "Now the counsel for the defence will be heard," said the duke; "butmake haste; lose no time! It is already twelve o'clock."

  Then began a shameful, revolting, and unheard-of scene. The dukeinterrupted the lawyers every other moment, bidding them be silent,questioning them, or jeering at them.

  "It seems incredible," said he, "that anyone can think of defending suchwretches!"

  Or again:

  "Silence! You should blush with shame for having constituted yourselfthe defender of such rascals!"

  But the lawyers persevered even while they realized the utteruselessness of their efforts. But what could they do under suchcircumstances? The defence of these twenty-nine prisoners lasted onlyone hour and a half.

  Before the last word was fairly uttered, the Duc de Sairmeuse gave asigh of relief, and in a tone which betrayed his delight, said:

  "Prisoner Escorval, stand up."

  Thus called upon, the baron rose, calm and dignified. Terrible as hissufferings must have b
een, there was no trace of it upon his noble face.

  He had even repressed the smile of disdain which the duke's paltryaffection in not giving him the title which belonged to him, brought tohis lips.

  But Chanlouineau sprang up at the same time, trembling with indignation,his face all aglow with anger.

  "Remain seated," ordered the duke, "or you shall be removed from thecourt-room."

  Chanlouineau, nevertheless, declared that he would speak; that he hadsome remarks to add to the plea made by the defending counsel.

  Upon a sign from the duke, two gendarmes approached and placed theirhands upon his shoulders. He allowed them to force him back into hisseat though he could easily have crushed them with one pressure of hisbrawny arm.

  An observer would have supposed that he was furious; secretly, he wasdelighted. The aim he had had in view was now attained. In the glance hecast upon the abbe, the latter could read:

  "Whatever happens, watch over Maurice; restrain him. Do not allow him todefeat my plans by any outbreak."

  This caution was not unnecessary. Maurice was terribly agitated; hecould not see, he felt that he was suffocating, that he was losing hisreason.

  "Where is the self-control you promised me?" murmured the priest.

  But no one observed the young man's condition. The attention was rapt,breathless. So profound was the silence that the measured tread of thesentinels without could be distinctly heard.

  Each person present felt that the decisive moment for which the tribunalhad reserved all its attention and efforts had come.

  To convict and condemn the poor peasants, of whom no one would thinktwice, was a mere trifle. But to bring low an illustrious man who hadbeen the counsellor and faithful friend of the Emperor! What glory, andwhat an opportunity for the ambitious!

  The instinct of the audience spoke the truth. If the tribunal had actedinformally in the case of the obscure conspirators, it had carefullyprepared its suit against the baron.

  Thanks to the activity of the Marquis de Courtornieu, the prosecutionhad found seven charges against the baron, the least grave of which waspunishable by death.

  "Which of you," demanded M. de Sairmeuse, "will consent to defend thisgreat culprit?"

  "I!" exclaimed three advocates, in a breath.

  "Take care," said the duke, with a malicious smile; "the task is notlight."

  "Not light!" It would have been better to say dangerous. It would havebeen better to say that the defender risked his career, his peace, andhis liberty; very probably, his life.

  "Our profession has its exigencies," nobly replied the oldest of theadvocates.

  And the three courageously took their places beside the baron, thusavenging the honor of their robe which had just been miserably sullied,in a city where, among more than a hundred thousand souls, two pure andinnocent victims of a furious reaction had not--oh, shame!--been able tofind a defender.

  "Prisoner," resumed M. de Sairmeuse, "state your name and profession."

  "Louis Guillaume, Baron d'Escorval, Commander of the Order of the Legionof Honor, formerly Councillor of State under the Empire."

  "So you avow these shameful services? You confess----"

  "Pardon, Monsieur; I am proud of having had the honor of serving mycountry, and of being useful to her in proportion to my ability----"

  With a furious gesture the duke interrupted him.

  "That is excellent!" he exclaimed. "These gentlemen, the commissioners,will appreciate that. It was, undoubtedly, in the hope of regaining yourformer position that you entered into a conspiracy against a magnanimousprince with these vile wretches!"

  "These peasants are not vile wretches, but misguided men, Monsieur.Moreover, you know--yes, you know as well as I do myself--that I havehad no hand in this conspiracy."

  "You were arrested in the ranks of the conspirators with weapons in yourhands!"

  "I was unarmed, Monsieur, as you are well aware; and if I was amongthe peasantry, it was only because I hoped to induce them to relinquishtheir senseless enterprise."

  "You lie!"

  The baron paled beneath the insult, but he made no reply.

  There was, however, one man in the assemblage who could no longer endurethis horrible and abominable injustice, and this man was Abbe Midon,who, only a moment before, had advised Maurice to be calm.

  He brusquely quitted his place, and advanced to the foot of theplatform.

  "The Baron d'Escorval speaks the truth," he cried, in a ringing voice;"the three hundred prisoners in the citadel will swear to it; theseprisoners here would say the same if they stood upon the guillotine; andI, who accompanied him, who walked beside him, I, a priest, swear beforethe God who will judge all men, Monsieur de Sairmeuse, I swear that allwhich it was in human power to do to arrest this movement we have done!"

  The duke listened with an ironical smile.

  "They did not deceive me, then, when they told me that this army ofrebels had a chaplain! Ah! Monsieur, you should sink to the earth withshame. You, a priest, mingle with such scoundrels as these--with theseenemies of our good King and of our holy religion! Do not deny this!Your haggard features, your swollen eyes, your disordered attire soiledwith dust and mud betray your guilt. Must I, a soldier, remind you ofwhat is due your sacred calling? Hold your peace, Monsieur, and depart!"

  The counsel for the prisoner sprang up.

  "We demand," they cried, "that this witness be heard. He must be heard!Military commissions are not above the laws that regulate ordinarytribunals."

  "If I do not speak the truth," resumed the abbe, "I am a perjuredwitness, worse yet, an accomplice. It is your duty, in that case, tohave me arrested."

  The duke's face expressed a hypocritical compassion.

  "No, Monsieur le Cure," said he, "I shall not arrest you. I would avertthe scandal which you are trying to cause. We will show your priestlygarb the respect the wearer does not deserve. Again, and for the lasttime, retire, or I shall be obliged to employ force."

  What would further resistance avail? Nothing. The abbe, with a facewhiter than the plastered walls, and eyes filled with tears, came backto his place beside Maurice.

  The lawyers, meanwhile, were uttering their protests with increasingenergy. But the duke, by a prolonged hammering upon the table with hisfists, at last succeeded in reducing them to silence.

  "Ah! you wish testimony!" he exclaimed. "Very well, you shall have it.Soldiers, bring in the first witness."

  A movement among the guards, and almost immediately Chupin appeared.He advanced deliberately, but his countenance betrayed him. A closeobserver could have read his anxiety and his terror in his eyes, whichwandered restlessly about the room.

  And there was a very appreciable terror in his voice when, with handuplifted, he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing butthe truth.

  "What do you know regarding the prisoner d'Escorval?" demanded the duke.

  "I know that he took part in the rebellion on the night of the fourth."

  "Are you sure of this?"

  "I can furnish proofs."

  "Submit them to the consideration of the commission."

  The old scoundrel began to gain more confidence.

  "First," he replied, "it was to the house of Monsieur d'Escorval thatLacheneur hastened after he had, much against his will, restored toMonsieur le Duc the chateau of Monsieur le Duc's ancestors. MonsieurLacheneur met Chanlouineau there, and from that day dates the plot ofthis insurrection."

  "I was Lacheneur's friend," said the baron; "it was perfectly naturalthat he should come to me for consolation after a great misfortune."

  M. de Sairmeuse turned to his colleague.

  "You hear that!" said he. "This d'Escorval calls the restitution of adeposit a great misfortune! Go on, witness."

  "In the second place," resumed Chupin, "the accused was always prowlingabout Lacheneur's house."

  "That is false," interrupted the baron. "I never visited the house butonce, and on that occasion I implored him to
renounce."

  He paused, comprehending only when it was too late, the terriblesignificance of his words. But having begun, he would not retract, andhe added:

  "I implored him to renounce this project of an insurrection."

  "Ah! then you knew his wicked intentions?"

  "I suspected them."

  "Not to reveal a conspiracy makes one an accomplice, and means theguillotine."

  Baron d'Escorval had just signed his death-warrant.

  Strange caprice of destiny! He was innocent, and yet he was the only oneamong the accused whom a regular tribunal could have legally condemned.

  Maurice and the abbe were prostrated with grief; but Chanlouineau, whoturned toward them, had still upon his lips a smile of confidence.

  How could he hope when all hope seemed absolutely lost?

  But the commissioners made no attempt to conceal their satisfaction. M.de Sairmeuse, especially, evinced an indecent joy.

  "Ah, well! Messieurs?" he said to the lawyers, in a sneering tone.

  The counsel for the defence poorly dissimulated their discouragement;but they nevertheless endeavored to question the validity of such adeclaration on the part of their client. He had said that he _suspected_the conspiracy, not that he _knew_ it. It was quite a different thing.

  "Say at once that you wish still more overwhelming evidence,"interrupted the duke. "Very well! You shall have it. Continue yourdeposition, witness."

  "The accused," continued Chupin, "was present at all the conferencesheld at Lacheneur's house. The proof of this is as clear as daylight.Being obliged to cross the Oiselle to reach the Reche, and fearing theferryman would notice his frequent nocturnal voyages, the baron had anold boat repaired which he had not used for years."

  "Ah! that is a remarkable circumstance, prisoner; do you recollecthaving your boat repaired?"

  "Yes; but not for the purpose which this man mentions."

  "For what purpose, then?"

  The baron made no response. Was it not in compliance with the request ofMaurice that the boat had been put in order?

  "And finally," continued Chupin, "when Lacheneur set fire to his houseto give the signal for the insurrection, the prisoner was with him."

  "That," exclaimed the duke, "is conclusive evidence."

  "I was, indeed, at the Reche," interrupted the baron; "but it was, asI have already told you, with the firm determination of preventing thisoutbreak."

  M. de Sairmeuse gave utterance to a little disdainful laugh.

  "Ah, gentlemen!" he said, addressing the commissioners, "can you notsee that the prisoner's courage does not equal his depravity? But I willconfound him. What did you do, prisoner, when the insurgents left theReche?"

  "I returned to my home with all possible haste, took a horse andrepaired to the Croix d'Arcy."

  "Then you knew that this was the spot appointed for the generalrendezvous?"

  "Lacheneur had just informed me."

  "If I believed your story, I should tell you that it was your duty tohave hastened to Montaignac and informed the authorities. But what yousay is untrue. You did not leave Lacheneur, you accompanied him."

  "No, Monsieur, no!"

  "And what if I could prove this fact beyond all question?"

  "Impossible, Monsieur, since such was not the case."

  By the malicious satisfaction that lighted M. de Sairmeuse's face, theabbe knew that this wicked judge had some terrible weapon in his hands,and that Baron d'Escorval was about to be overwhelmed by one of thosefatal coincidences which explain, although they do not justify, judicialerrors.

  At a sign from the counsel for the prosecution, the Marquis deCourtornieu left his seat and came forward to the platform.

  "I must request you, Monsieur le Marquis," said the duke, "to have thegoodness to read to the commission the deposition written and signed byyour daughter."

  This scene must have been prepared in advance for the audience. M. deCourtornieu cleaned his glasses, drew from his pocket a paper which heunfolded, and amid a death-like silence, he read:

  "I, Blanche de Courtornieu, do declare upon oath that, on the eveningof the fourth of February, between ten and eleven o'clock, on the publicroad leading from Sairmeuse to Montaignac, I was assailed by a crowd ofarmed brigands. While they were deliberating as to whether they shouldtake possession of my person and pillage my carriage, I overheard oneof these men say to another, speaking of me: 'She must get out, must shenot, Monsieur d'Escorval?' I believe that the brigand who uttered thesewords was a peasant named Chanlouineau, but I dare not assert it onoath."

  A terrible cry, followed by inarticulate moans, interrupted the marquis.

  The suffering which Maurice endured was too great for his strength andhis reason. He was about to spring forward and cry:

  "It was I who addressed those words to Chanlouineau. I alone am guilty;my father is innocent!"

  But fortunately the abbe had the presence of mind to hold him back, andplace his hand over the poor youth's lips.

  But the priest would not have been able to restrain Maurice without theaid of the retired army officers, who were standing beside him.

  Divining all, perhaps, they surrounded Maurice, took him up, and carriedhim from the room by main force, in spite of his violent resistance.

  All this occupied scarcely ten seconds.

  "What is the cause of this disturbance?" inquired the duke, lookingangrily over the audience.

  No one uttered a word.

  "At the least noise the hall shall be cleared," added M. de Sairmeuse."And you, prisoner, what have you to say in self-justification, afterthis crushing accusation by Mademoiselle de Courtornieu?"

  "Nothing," murmured the baron.

  "So you confess your guilt?"

  Once outside, the abbe confided Maurice to the care of three officers,who promised to go with him, to carry him by main force, if need be, tothe hotel, and keep him there.

  Relieved on this score, the priest re-entered the hall just in time tosee the baron seat himself without making any response, thus indicatingthat he had relinquished all intention of defending his life.

  Really, what could he say? How could he defend himself without betrayinghis son?

  Until now there had not been one person who did not believe in thebaron's entire innocence. Could it be that he was guilty? His silencemust be accepted as a confession of guilt; at least, some presentbelieved so.

  Baron d'Escorval appeared to be guilty. Was that not a sufficientlygreat victory for the Duc de Sairmeuse?

  He turned to the lawyers, and with an air of weariness and disdain hesaid:

  "Now speak, since it is absolutely necessary; but no long phrases! Weshould have finished here an hour ago."

  The oldest lawyer rose, trembling with indignation, ready to dareanything for the sake of giving free utterance to his thought, but thebaron checked him.

  "Do not try to defend me," he said, calmly; "it would be labor wasted.I have only a word to say to my judges. Let them remember what the nobleand generous Marshal Moncey wrote to the King: 'The scaffold does notmake friends.'"

  This recollection was not of a nature to soften the hearts of thejudges. The marshal, for that saying, had been deprived of his office,and condemned to three months' imprisonment.

  As the advocates made no further attempt to argue the case, thecommission retired to deliberate. This gave M. d'Escorval an opportunityto speak with his defenders. He shook them warmly by the hand, andthanked them for their devotion and for their courage.

  The good man wept.

  Then the baron, turning to the oldest among them, quickly and in a lowvoice said:

  "I have a last favor to ask of you. When the sentence of death shallhave been pronounced upon me, go at once to my son. You will say to himthat his dying father commands him to live; he will understand you. Tellhim it is my last wish; that he live--live for his mother!"

  He said no more; the judges were returning.

  Of the thirty prisoners, nine were dec
lared not guilty, and released.

  The remaining twenty-one, and M. d'Escorval and Chanlouineau were amongthe number, were condemned to death.

  But the smile had not once forsaken Chanlouineau's lips.