CHAPTER XXXV. THE REIGN OF TERROR UNDER THE CONSULATE.
On the morning that followed the scene I have spoken of came the news ofthe arrest, the trial, and the death of the Duc d'Enghien. That terribletragedy--which yet weighs, and will weigh forever, on the memory ofthe period--reached us in our prison with all the terrible force ofcircumstances to make it a day of sorrow and mourning. Such details asthe journals afforded but little satisfied our curiosity. The youth, thevirtues, the bravery of the prince had made him the idol of his party;and while his death was lamented for his own sake, his followers readin it the determination of the Government to stop at nothing in theirresolve to exterminate that party. A gloomy silence sat upon theChouans, who no longer moved about as before, regardless of theirconfinement to a prison. Their chief remained apart: he neither spoketo any one nor seemed to notice those who passed; he looked stunned andstupefied, rather than deeply affected, and when he lifted his eyes,their expression was cold and wandering. Even the other prisoners, whorarely gave way to feeling of any kind, seemed at first overwhelmed bythese sad tidings; and doubtless many who before had trusted to rank andinfluence for their safety, saw how little dependence could be placed onsuch aid when the blow had fallen upon a "Conde" himself.
I, who neither knew the political movements of the time nor the sourcesof the danger the Consul's party anticipated, could only mourn over theunhappy fate of a gallant prince whose daring had cost him his life,and never dreamed for a moment of calling in question the honor or goodfaith of Bonaparte in an affair of which I could have easily believedhim totally ignorant. Such, indeed, was the representation of the"Moniteur;" and whatever doubts the hints about me might have excited,were speedily allayed by the accounts I read of the Consul's indignationat the haste and informality of the trial, and his deep anger at thecatastrophe that followed it.
"Savary will be disgraced for this," said I to the Abbe, who leaned overmy shoulder while I read the paper; "Bonaparte can never forgive him."
"You mistake, my dear sir," replied he, with a strange expression Icould not fathom. "The Consul is the most forgiving of men; he neverbears malice."
"But here was a dreadful event,--a crime, perhaps."
"Only a fault," resumed he. "By the bye, Colonel, this order aboutclosing the barriers will be excessively inconvenient to the good peopleof Paris."
"I have been thinking over that, too," said an overdressed,affected-looking youth, whose perfumed curls and studied costume formeda strange contrast with the habits of his fellow-prisoners. "Ifthey shut up the Barriere de de l'Etoile, what are they to do forLongchamps?"
"_Parbleu!_ that did not strike me," interposed the colonel, tapping hisforehead with his finger. "I 'll wager a crown that they haven't thoughtof that themselves."
"The Champs Ellyses are surely long enough for such tomfoolery," saidthe quartermaster, in a gruff, savage tone.
"Not one half," was the imperturbable reply of the youth;"and Longchamps promised admirably this year. I had ordered a_caleche_,--light blue, with gilt circles on the wheels, and a bronzecarving to the pole,--like an antique chariot."
"_Parbleu!_ you are more likely to take your next airing in a simplerconveyance," said the quartermaster with a grin.
"I was to have driven la Comtesse de Beauflers to the Bois de Boulogne."
"You must content yourself with the Comte de la Marque" (the prison nameof the executioner) "instead," growled out the other.
I turned away, no less disgusted at the frivolity that could only see inthe dreadful event that took place the temporary interruption to a vainand silly promenade, than at the savage coarseness that could revel inthe pain common misfortune gave him the privilege of inflicting.
Such, however, was the prevalent tone of thinking and speaking there.The death of friends,--the ruin of those best loved and cared for; thedanger that each day came nearer to themselves,--were all casualties towhich habit, recklessness of life, and libertinism had accustomed them;while about former modes of life,--the pleasures of the capital, itsdelights and dissipation,--they conversed with the most eager interest.It is thus, while in some natures misfortunes will call forth intoexercise the best and noblest traits that in happier circumstances hadnever found the necessity that gave them birth; so, in others, adversitydepresses and demoralizes those weaker temperaments that seemed formedto sail safely in the calm waters, but never destined to brave thestormy seas of life.
With such associates I could have neither sympathy nor friendship; andmy life passed on in one unbroken and dreary monotony, day succeedingday and night following night, till my thoughts, turned ever inward, hadworn as it were a track for themselves in which the world without andits people had no share whatever. Not only was my application tothe minister unanswered, but I was never examined before any of thetribunals; and sometimes the dreadful fate of those prisoners who in theReign of Terror passed their whole life in prison, their crimes, theirvery existence forgotten, would cross my mind, and strike me with terrorunspeakable.
If in the sombre atmosphere of the Temple a sad and cheerless monotonyprevailed, events followed fast on each other in that world from whichits gloomy walls excluded us. Every hour was some new feature of thedark conspiracy brought to light; the vigilance of Monsieur Real sleptnot night or day; and all that bribery, terror, or torture could effect,was put into requisition to obtain full and precise information as toevery one concerned in the plot.
It was a bright, fresh morning in April, the sixth of the month,--theday is graven on my memory,--when, on walking forth into the garden, Iwas surprised to see the prisoners standing in a circle round a tree onwhich a placard was fastened, with glances eagerly turned towards thepaper or bent sadly to the ground. They stood around, sad and silent. Tomy question of what had occurred, a significant look at the tree was theonly reply I received, while in the faces of all I perceived that somedreadful news had reached them. Forcing my way with difficulty throughthe crowd, I at length approached near enough to read the placard, onwhich in large letters was written,--
"6 Avril. Le Temple.
"Charles Pichegru, ez-General Republicain, s'est e trangle dans sa prison."
"And did Pichegru, the great conqueror of Holland, die by his own hand?"said I, as my eye rested on the fatal bulletin.
"Don't you read it, young man?" replied a deep, solemn voice beside me,which I at once knew was that of General George himself, "Can you doubtthe accuracy of information supplied by the police?"
The bystanders looked up with a terrified and frightened expression, asif dreading lest the very listening to his words might be construed intoan acquiescence in them.
"Trust me, he is dead," continued he. "They who have announced his fatehere have a right to be relied on. It now only remains to be seen how hedied. These prison maladies have a strange interest for us who livein the infected climate; and, if I mistake not, I see the 'Moniteur',yonder, a full hour before its usual time. See what a blessing,gentlemen, you enjoy in a paternal Government, which in moments ofpublic anxiety can feel for your distress and hasten to alleviate it!"
The tone of sarcasm he spoke in, the measured fall of every word, sankinto the hearers' minds, and though they stood mute, they did not evenmove from the spot.
"Here is the 'Moniteur' now," said the quartermaster, opening the paperand reading aloud.
"To his oft-repeated assurances that he would make no attempt upon hislife--'"
A rude burst of laughter from George interrupted the reader here.
"I ask your pardon, sir," said he, touching his cap; "proceed. I promisenot to interrupt you again."
"'That he would make no attempt upon his life, Greneral Pichegruobtained permission that the sentries should be stationed outside hiscell during the night. Having provided himself with a fagot, whichhe secreted beneath his bed, he supped as usual in the evening ofyesterday, eating heartily at eleven o'clock, and retiring to rest bytwelve. When thus alone he placed the stick within the folds of theblack
silk cravat he generally wore round his neck, in such a manner as,when twisted, to act like a tourniquet; and having turned it with sucha degree of force as to arrest the return of blood from the head, hefastened it beneath his head and shoulders, and in this manner, apoplexysupervening, expired.'"
"_Par Saint Louis_, sir," cried George, "the explanation is admirable,and most satisfactorily shows how a man may possess life long enoughto be certain he has killed himself. The only thing wanting is for thegeneral to assist in dressing the proces-verbal, when doubtless his ownviews of his case would be equally edifying and instructive. And see,already the ceremony has begun."
As he spoke, he pointed to a number of persons who crossed the terrace,preceded by Savary in his uniform of the Gendarmes d'Elite, and who wentin the direction of the cell where the dead body lay.
The prisoners now fell into little knots and groups, talking beneaththeir breath, and apparently terrified at every stir about them. Eachcompared his sensation of what he thought he heard during the night withthe other's. Some asserted that they distinctly heard the chains of thedrawbridge creak long after midnight; others vouched for the quick trampof feet along the corridors, and the sounds of strange voices; one,whose cell was beneath that of Pichegru, said that he was awokebefore day by a violent crash overhead, followed by a harsh sound likecoughing, which continued for some time and then ceased entirely. Thesewere vague, uncertain signs, yet what horrible thoughts did they notbeget in each listener's mind!
As I stood terror-struck and speechless, I felt a tap oif my shoulder.I turned; it was the Abbe, who, with a smile of peculiar irony, stoodbehind me.
"Poor Savary!" said he, in a whisper; "how will he ever get over thisblunder, and it so very like the former one!"
He did not wait for a reply, but moved away.
"Who is to be the next, sir?" cried George, with a deep voice, as he sawthe assemblage thus accidentally collected about to break up. "Moreau,perhaps. One thing I bid you all bear witness to: suicide is a crime I'll never commit; let no narrative of a cravat and a fagot--"
"Do you never eat mushrooms, General?" said the Abbe, dryly; andwhether from the manner of the speaker, or the puzzled look of himto whom the speech was addressed, the whole crowd burst into a fit oflaughter,--the emotion seemed like one in which relief was felt by all.They laughed long and loud; and now the faces that a minute before weremarked by every character of deep affliction, looked merry and happy.Each had some story, some apropos to tell, or some smart witticism tolet off against his neighbor; and to hear them you would say that neverwas there a subject more suggestive of drollery than the one of suicideand sudden death.
And thus was it ever. No event, however dreadful,--no circumstance,however shocking,--could do more than momentarily affect those whoselife possessed no security, was governed by no principle. Levity andunbelief--unbelief that extended not only to matters of religion, butactually penetrated every relation of life, rendering them sceptical offriendship, love, truth, honor, and charity--were the impulses underwhich they lived; and they would have laughed him to scorn who shouldhave attempted to establish another code of acting or thinking. Suchfeelings, if they made them but little suited to all the habits andcharities of life, certainly rendered them most indifferent to death;and much of that courage so much lauded and admired on the scaffoldhad no other source than in the headlong recklessness the prison hadinculcated,--the indifference to everything, where everything wasquestionable and doubtful.
I struggled powerfully against the taint of such a consuming malady.I bethought me of my boyhood and its early purpose,--of him who firststirred my soul to ambition,--and asked myself, what would he havethought of me had I yielded to such a trial as this? I pictured beforeme a career when such devotion as I felt, aided by a stout heart, mustwin its way to honor; and when roused to thought, these low, depressingdreams, these dark hours of doubt and despair, vanished before it. Butgradually my health gave way, my lethargic apathy increased upon me, thegloomy walls of my cell had thrown their shadow over my spirit, and Isank into a state of moping indifference in which I scarcely marked thechange of day and night; and felt at length that had the sentence beenpronounced which condemned me for life to the walls of the Temple, Icould have heard it without emotion.
"Come, sous-lieutenant, it's your turn now!" said the turnkey, enteringmy cell one morning, where I sat alone at breakfast; "I have justreceived the orders for your appearance."
"How! where?" said I, scarcely able to do more than guess at the meaningof his words; "before the prefet, is it?"
"No, no; a very different affair, indeed. You are summoned with the_Chouan_ prisoners to appear at the Palais de Justice."
"The Palais!" said I, as for the first time for weeks past a sentimentof fear crept through me. "Are we to be tried without having a list ofthe charges alleged against us?"
"You 'll hear them time enough in court."
"Without an advocate to defend us."
"The President will name one for that purpose."
"And can the jury--"
"Jury! There is no jury; the Consul has suspended trial by jury fortwo years. Come, come, don't be downhearted; your friends without aresinging away as gayly as though it were a festival. My faith, thatGreneral George is made of iron, I believe. He has been confined _ausecret_ these ten days, his rations diminished to almost a starvationlevel, and yet there is he now, with his countenance as calm and hislook as firm as if he were at large on the hills of La Vendee. Cheer up,then; let the example of your chief--"
"Chief! he is no chief of mine."
"That 's as it may, or may not be," replied he, gruffly, as thoughwounded by what he deemed a want of confidence in his honor. "However,make haste and dress, for the carriages will be here to convey you tothe Palais. And there now are the Gendarmes d'Elite assembling in thecourt."
As I proceeded to dress, I could see from the window of my cell that asquadron of gendarmes, in full uniform, were drawn up in the square ofthe prison, along one side of which were several carriages standing,each with two gendarmes seated on the box. The prisoners were confinedto their walls; but at every window some face appeared peering anxiouslyat the proceedings beneath, and watching with inquisitive gaze every,even the slightest, movement.
Just as the clock struck nine the door of my cell was opened, and agreffier of the court entered, and, taking from a black portmanteau athis side a roll of paper, began without delay to repeat in a sing-songrecitative tone a formal summons of the Grand Tribunal for the"surrender of the body of Thomas Burke, sous-lieutenant of the huitiemehussars, now in the prison of the Temple, and accused of the crime oftreason."
The last word made me shudder as it fell from him; and not all mystoical indifference of weeks past was proof against such an accusation.The jailer having formally listened to the document, and replied byreading aloud another, delivered me over to the officer, who desired meto follow him.
In the court beneath the greater number of the prisoners were alreadyassembled. George, among the number, was conspicuous, not only by hissize and proportions, but by a handsome uniform, in the breast of whichhe wore his decoration of St. Louis, from which descended a bright bowof crimson ribbon. A slight bustle at one of the doorways of the towersuddenly seemed to attract his attention, and I saw that he turnedquickly round, and forced his way through the crowd to the place.Eager to learn what it was, I followed him at once. Pushing with somedifficulty forward, I reached the doorway, on the step of which lay ayoung man in a fainting fit. His face, pale as death, had no color savetwo dark circles round the eyes, which, though open, were upturned andfilmy. His cravat had been hastily removed by some of the bystanders,and showed a purple welt around his neck, on one side of which a massof blood escaping beneath the skin, made a dreadful-looking tumor. Hisdress denoted a person of condition, as well as the character of hisfeatures; but never had I looked upon an object so sad and woe-begonebefore. At his side knelt Greorge; his strong arm round his back, whilehis great massive h
and patted the water on his brow. The stern featuresof the hardy Breton, which ever before had conveyed to me nothingbut daring and impetuous passion, were softened to a look of womanlykindliness, his blue eye beaming as softly as though it were a motherleaning over her infant.
"Bouvet, my dear, dear boy, remember thou art a Breton; rally thyself,my child,--bethink thee of the cause."
The name of the youth at once recalled him whom I had seen some monthsbefore among the _Chouan_ prisoners, and who, sad and sickly as he thenseemed, was now much further gone towards the tomb.
"Bouvet," cried Greorge, in an accent of heartrending sorrow, "this willdisgrace us forever!"
The youth turned his cold eyes round till they were fixed on the other'sface; while his lips, still parted, and his cheek pale and flattened,gave him the appearance of a corpse suddenly called back to life.
"There, my own brave boy," said Greorge, kissing his forehead--"there,thou art thyself again!" He bent over till his lips nearly touchedthe youth's ear, and then whispered: "Dost thou forget the last wordsMonsieur spoke to thee, Bouvet? 'Conserve-toi pour tes amis, et centrenos ennemis communs!'"
The boy started up at the sounds, and looked wildly about him, while hishands were open wide with a kind of spasmodic motion.
"_Tonnerre de ciel!_" cried George, with frantic passion; "what have theydone with him? his mind is gone. Bouvet! Bouvet de Lozier! knowestthou this?" He tore from his bosom a miniature, surrounded with largebrilliants, and held it to the eyes of the youth.
A wild shriek broke from the youth as he fell back in strongconvulsions. The dreadful cry seemed like the last wail of expiringreason, so sad, so piercing was its cadence.
"Look, see!" said George, turning a savage scowl upon the crowd; "theyhave taken away his mind; he is an idiot."
"The General George Cadoudal," cried a loud voice from the centre of thecourt.
"Here," was the firm reply.
"This way, sir; the carriage yonder."
"Monsieur Sol de Gisolles!"
"Here," replied a tall, aristocratic-looking personage, in deepmourning.
Sous-Lieutenant Burke was next called, and I followed the others, andsoon found myself seated in a close calecfie, with a gendarme beside me,while two mounted men of the corps sat at either side of the carriagewith drawn swords. Picot, the servant of George, the faithful Breton,was next summoned; and Lebourgeois, an old but handsome man, in thesimple habit of a farmer, with his long white hair, and soft kindcountenance. Many other names were called over, and nearly an hourelapsed before the ceremony was concluded, and the order was given tomove forward.
At last the heavy gates were opened, and the procession issued forth.I was surprised to see that the entire Boulevard was lined with troops,behind which thousands of people were closely wedged, all the windows,and even the housetops, being filled with spectators.
When we reached the quays, the crowd was greater still, and it requiredall the efforts of the troops to keep it back sufficiently to permit anopen space for the carriages; while at all the streets that openedat the quays, mounted dragoons were stationed to prevent any carriagepassing down. Never had I beheld such a vast multitude of people;and yet, through all that crowded host, a deep, solemn silenceprevailed,--not a cry nor a shout was heard in all the way. Once only,at the corner of the Pont Neuf, a cry of "Vive Moreau!" was given bysome one in the crowd; but it was a solitary voice, and the momentafter I saw a gendarme force his way through the mass, and seizing amiserable-looking creature by the neck, hurry him along beside his horsetowards the guardhouse. On crossing the bridge, I saw that a company ofartillery and two guns were placed in position beside Desaix'smonument, so as to command the Pont Neuf: all these preparations clearlyindicating that the Government felt the occasion such as to warrant themost energetic measures of security. There was something in the earnestlook of the cannoniers, as they stood with their lighted matches besidethe guns, that betrayed the resolve of one whose quick determination wasever ready for the moment of danger.
The narrow streets of the Isle St. Louis, more densely crowded than anypart of the way, slackened our pace considerably, and frequently thegendarmes were obliged to clear the space before the carriages couldproceed. I could not help feeling struck, as we passed along thesemiserable and dark alleys,--where vice and crime, and wretchedness ofevery type herded together,--to hear at every step some expressionsof pity or commiseration from those who themselves seemed the veriestobjects of compassion.
"Ah, Voila," cried an old creature in rags, on whose cotton bonnet afaded and dirty tricolored ribbon was fastened--"voila Moreau! I'd knowhis proud face any day. Poor general, I hope it will not go hard withyou to-day!" "Look there," screamed a hag, as the carriage in whichBouvet sat passed by--"look at the handsome youth that's dying! HolyVirgin! he'll not be living when they reach the gate of the Palais!"
"And there," cried another, "there's a hussar officer, pale enough, Itrow he is. Come, I 'll say a prayer or two for him there; it can do himno harm anyhow."
The hoarse rattle of a drum in front mingled with the noise of thecavalcade, and I now could hear the clank of a guard turning out. Theminute after we stood before a colossal gateway, whose rich traceryshone in the most gorgeous gilding; it was in the splendid taste ofLouis the Fourteenth, and well became the entrance of what once had beena royal palace. "Alas!" thought I, "how unlike those who once trod thiswide court is the melancholy cortege that now enters it!"
As each carriage drew up at the foot of a wide flight of stone steps,the prisoners descended, and escorted by gendarmes on each side, wereled into the building. When all had reached the hall, the order wasgiven to move forward, and we walked on till we came to a long gallery.On either side was a range of massive pillars, between which views wereobtained of various spacious but dimly-lighted chambers, apparentlyneglected and unused; some benches here and there, an old cabinet, anda deal table, were all the furniture. Here we halted for a few moments,till a door opening at the extreme end, a sign was made for us toadvance. And now we heard a low rushing sound, like the distant breakingof the sea in a calm night; it grew louder as we went, till we couldmark the mingling of several hundred voices, as they conversed in asubdued and under tone. Then, indeed, a dreadful thrill ran through me,as I thought of the countless mass before whom I was to stand forth acriminal, and it needed every effort in my power to keep my feet.
A heavy curtain of dark cloth yet separated us from a view of the court;but we could hear the voice of the president commanding silence, andthe monotonous intonation of the clerk reading the order for theproceedings. This concluded, a deep voice called out, "Introduce theprisoners!" and the words were repeated still louder by a huissier atthe entrance; and at a signal the line moved forward, the curtain wasdrawn back, and we advanced into the court.
The crowd of faces that filled the vast space from the body of the courtbelow to the galleries above, turned as we passed on to the bench, atone side of the raised platform near the seat of the judges. A similarbench, but unoccupied, ran along the opposite side; while directly infront of the judges were ranged the advocates in rows, closely packedas they could sit,--a small desk, somewhat advanced from the rest, beingthe seat reserved for the Procureur-General of the court.
The vast multitudes of spectators; the pomp and circumstance of a courtof justice; the solemn look of the judges, arrayed in their dark robesand square black caps, reminding one of the officers of the Inquisition,as we see them in old paintings; the silence where so many wereassembled,--all struck me with awe, and I scarcely dared to look up,lest in the glances bent upon me I should meet some whose looks mightseem to condemn me.
"Proclaim the _seance_," said the President. And with: a loud voicethe _huissier_ of the court made proclamation that the tribunal hadcommenced its sitting.
This concluded, the Procureur-General proceeded to read the names of theaccused, beginning with General Moreau, Armand de Polignac, Charles deRiviere, Sol de Gisolles, George Cadoudal, and some tw
enty othersof less note, among which I heard with a sinking heart my own namepronounced.
Some customary formalities seemed now to occupy the court for aconsiderable time; after which the _huissier_ called silence once more.
"General Moreau!" said the President, in a deep voice that was heardthroughout the entire court. "Rise up, sir," added he, after a fewseconds' pause.
I looked down the bench, at the farthest end of which I saw thetall and well-knit figure of a man in the uniform of a general of theRepublic; his back was turned towards me, but his bearing and carriagewere quite enough to distinguish the soldier.
"Your name and surname," said the President.
Before an answer could be returned, a dull sound, like something heavyfalling, resounded through the court, and in an instant several personsaround me stood up. I bent forward to see, and beheld the figure ofBouvet de Lozier stretched insensible upon the ground; beside him hisfaithful friend George was stooping, and endeavoring to open his vest togive him air.
"Bring some water here quickly!" cried the hardy Breton, in a tone thatshowed little respect for where he stood. "Your absurd ceremonial hasfrightened the poor boy out of his senses."
"Respect the court, sir, or I commit you!" said the President, in avoice of anger.
A contemptuous look, followed by a still more contemptuous shrug of theshoulders, was his reply.
"Remove the prisoner," said the President, pointing to the stillfainting youth, "and proclaim silence in the court."
The officers of the tribunal carried the deathlike figure of the boydown the steps, and bore him to some of the chambers near.
This little incident, slight and passing as it was, seemed much toaffect the auditory, and it was some time before perfect silence couldbe again restored.
"So much for the regime of the Temple!" said George, aloud, as he lookedafter the insensible form of his friend.
"Silence, sir!" cried one of the judges, M. Thuriot, a harsh andsevere-looking man, whose hatred to the prisoners was the subject ofmuch conversation in the prison.
"Ah, it is you, Tue-Roi!" cried George, punning upon his name, for hehad been one of the regicides. "You there! I thought they had found youout long ere this."
A burst of laughter that nothing could repress broke through the crowdedcourt, and it was not until some five or six persons were forciblyremoved by the gendarmes that order was again restored.
"Read the act of accusation," said the President, in a deep solemnvoice.
"In the name of the Republic, one and indivisible--"
"Monsieur le President," interrupted the Procureur-General, "I wouldsubmit to the court, that as in the first accusation there are severalof the prisoners not included, they should not remain during the recitalof the indictment."
A conversation of some minutes now took place between the judges, duringwhich again the silence was unbroken in the court. I turned gladlyfrom the gaze of the thousand spectators to the bench where myfellow-prisoners were seated; and however varied by age, rank, andoccupation, there seemed but one feeling amongst them,--a hardy andresolute spirit to brave every danger without flinching.
"Which of the prisoners are not accused under the first act?" saidThuriot.
"Charles Auguste Bebarde, dit le Noir; Guillaume Lebarte; and ThomasBurke, Sous-Lieutenant in the Eighth Regiment of Hussars."
"Let them withdraw," said the President.
A slight bustle ensued in the body of the court as the gendarmesadvanced to make a passage for our exit; and for a moment I couldperceive that the attention of the assembly was drawn towards us. Oneby one we descended to the platform, and with a gendarme on either side,proceeded to pass out, when suddenly the deep, mellow voice of Cadoudalcalled out aloud,--
"Adieu, my friends, adieu! If we are not to be better treated than ourprince, we shall never see you again."
"Silence, sir!" cried the President, severely; and then, turning towardsthe bar of advocates, he continued, "If that man have an advocatein this court, it would well become him to warn his client that suchcontinued insult to the tribunal can only prejudice his cause."
"I have none, and I wish for none," replied George, in a tone ofdefiance. "This mockery is but the first step of the guillotine, and Ican walk it without assistance."
A renewed call of "Silence!" and a deep murmur through the assembly, wasall I heard, as the door of the court opened and closed behind us. Aswe marched along a low vaulted corridor, the sounds of the court grewfainter and fainter; and at last the echoes of our own steps were theonly noises.
The room to which we were conducted was a small whitewashed chamber,around which ran a bench of unpainted wood. A deal table stood in thecentre, on which was a common-looking earthenware jar of water and sometin goblets. The window was several feet from the ground, and stronglybarred with iron.
"La salle d'attente is gloomy enough," said one of my companions, "andyet some of us may be very sorry to leave it."
"Not I, at least," cried the other, resolutely. "The basket beneaththe guillotine will be an easier couch than I have slept on these threemonths."
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