r Martine, whom we have seen the subject of jest with the young
soldier, Grand-Ferre. The child, having nothing to look at after the
court had left the hall, had climbed to a small window which admitted a
faint light, and which he imagined to contain a swallow's nest or some
other treasure for a boy; but after he was well established on the
cornice, his hands grasping the bars of an old shrine of Jerome, he
wished himself anywhere else, and cried out:

"Oh, sister, sister, lend me your hand to get down!"

"What do you see there?" asked Martine.

"Oh, I dare not tell; but I want to get down," and he began to cry.

"Stay there, my child; stay there!" said all the women. "Don't be
afraid; tell us all that you see."

"Well, then, they've put the Cure between two great boards that squeeze
his legs, and there are cords round the boards."

"Ah! that is the rack," said one of the townsmen. "Look again, my little
friend, what do you see now?"

The child, more confident, looked again through the window, and then,
withdrawing his head, said:

"I can not see the Cure now, because all the judges stand round him, and
are looking at him, and their great robes prevent me from seeing. There
are also some Capuchins, stooping down to whisper to him."

Curiosity attracted more people to the boy's perch; every one was
silent, waiting anxiously to catch his words, as if their lives depended
on them.

"I see," he went on, "the executioner driving four little pieces of
wood between the cords, after the Capuchins have blessed the hammer and
nails. Ah, heavens! Sister, how enraged they seem with him, because he
will not speak. Mother! mother! give me your hand, I want to come down!"

Instead of his mother, the child, upon turning round, saw only men's
faces, looking up at him with a mournful eagerness, and signing him
to go on. He dared not descend, and looked again through the window,
trembling.

"Oh! I see Father Lactantius and Father Barre themselves forcing in more
pieces of wood, which squeeze his legs. Oh, how pale he is! he seems
praying. There, his head falls back, as if he were dying! Oh, take me
away!"

And he fell into the arms of the young Advocate, of M. du Lude, and of
Cinq-Mars, who had come to support him.

"Deus stetit in synagoga deorum: in medio autem Deus dijudicat--"
chanted strong, nasal voices, issuing from the small window, which
continued in full chorus one of the psalms, interrupted by blows of the
ham