in will comprehend the danger he himself runs
by leaving me here. All will go well---and now there's not a moment to
lose. Take up your basket, and follow the others.'

'But the falsehood of all this,' cried the pere.

'But your life, and mine, too, lost, if you refuse,' said I, pushing him
away.

'Oh, Maurice, how changed have you become!' cried he sorrowfully.

'You will see a greater change in me yet, as I lie in the sawdust
beneath the scaffold,' said I hastily. 'Go, go.'

There was, indeed, no more time to lose. The muster of the prisoners was
forming at one end of the chamber, while the 'Marmitons' were gathering
up their plates and dishes, previous to departure, at the other; and it
was only by the decisive step of laying myself down within the recesses
of the window, in the attitude of one overcome by sleep, that I could
force him to obey my direction. I could feel his presence as he bent
over me, and muttered something that must have been a prayer. I could
know, without seeing, that he still lingered near me, but as I never
stirred, he seemed to feel that my resolve was not to be shaken, and at
last he moved slowly away.

At first the noise and clamour sounded like the crash of some desperate
conflict, but by degrees this subsided, and I could hear the names
called aloud and the responses of the prisoners, as they were 'told off'
in parties from the different parts of the prison. Tender leave-takings
and affectionate farewells from many who never expected to meet again,
accompanied these, and the low sobs of anguish were mingled with the
terrible chaos of voices; and at last I heard the name of 'Michel
Delannois': I felt as if my death-summons was in the words 'Michel
Delannois,'

'That crazy priest can neither hear nor see, I believe,' said the gaoler
savagely. 'Will no one answer for him?'

'He is asleep yonder in the window,' replied a voice from the crowd.

'Let him sleep then,' said the turnkey; 'when awake he gives us no peace
with his prayers and exhortations.'

'He has eaten nothing for three days,' observed another; 'he is,
perhaps, overcome by weakness more than by sleep.'

'Be it so! if he only lie quiet, I care not,' rejoined the gaoler, and
proceeded to the next name on the list.

The monotonous roll-call, the heat, the attitude in which I was lying,
all conspired to make me drowsy: even the very press of sensations that
crowded to my brain lent their aid, and at last I slept as sound