it was, that he who made them momentarily
gave vent to his feelings and shed tears. This homage to human frailty
jarred upon the classic instincts of the assembly. It was an ignoble
weakness, unworthy of such a theme; and in a tone of stern rebuke, Fabre
d'Eglantine interrupted the speaker, and said--

'Your grief is unbecoming, sir; such sorrow insults the memory you
mean to hallow! If you would learn how the death of Mirabeau should be
accepted, go yonder, and you will see.' He pointed as he spoke toward
the boudoir, and thither with a common impulse the crowd now moved.

A warning gesture from Talma, as he stood in the doorway, and with
uplifted hand motioned silence, arrested their steps, and, awestruck by
the imposing attitude of one whose slightest gesture was eloquent, they
halted. Mixed in the throng, Gerald could barely catch a glimpse of the
scene beyond. He could, however, perceive that Marietta was lying in a
sort of trance; a crown of 'immortelles' that she had been weaving had
fallen from her hand, and lay at her feet; her hair, too, had burst
its bands, and fell in large waving masses over her neck and arms; the
faintest trace of colour marked her cheeks, and sufficed to show that
she had not fainted.

Lanthenas laid his finger softly on her wrist, and in a cautious whisper
said, 'The pulse is intermittent, the "acces" will be brief.'

'We were talking of the death of Caesar,' said Talma, 'when the attack
came on. She would not have it that Brutus was a patriot. She tried to
show that in such natures--stern, cold, and self-denying--patriotism can
no more take root than love. I asked her then if Gabriel Riquetti were
such a man----'

'Hush! she is about to speak,' broke in Madame Roland.

A few soft murmuring sounds escaped Marietta's lips, and her fingers
moved convulsively.

'What is it she says,' cried Louvet, 'of crime and poison?'

'Hush! listen.'

'Examine Comps,' muttered she; 'he knows all.'

'It is Mirabeau's secretary she speaks of,' said Louvet, 'he committed
suicide last night.'

'No; he is not dead, though his wound may prove fatal,' said Cabanis.

'He will live,' said Marietta solemnly, and then seemed to sink into a
deep stupor.

'Yes, trust me, I will tell him,' cried she suddenly, with a voice as
assured and an accent as firm as though awake. 'Come here and let me
whisper it.'

One after another bent down beside the couch, but she repulsed them
sharply, and with a half-a