e fortitude and resignation than those who would
survive them. Dolores approached the priest.

"Father," said she, "on returning from the Tribunal, I shall beg you to
listen to my confession and to grant me absolution."

As he looked upon this beautiful young girl who confronted death so
calmly and serenely, the priest closed his book and said, in a voice
trembling with compassion:

"What! are you, too, a victim for the guillotine? You cannot be a
conspirator. Do these wretches respect nothing?"

"I am glad to die," Dolores said, simply.

Did he comprehend that this resignation concealed some great sacrifice?
Perhaps so. He looked at her with admiration, and bowed respectfully
before her, as he replied:

"You set us all an example of courage, my child. If you are condemned, I
will give you absolution; and I shall ask you to address to Him, who
never turns a deaf ear to the petitions of the innocent, a prayer for
me."

There was so much sadness in his voice that all the sympathies of
Dolores were aroused. She pitied those who were doomed to die without
even remembering to weep over her own sad fate.

When the name of Mademoiselle de Mirandol was called, Dolores stepped
forward as she had done the evening before, and took her place with the
other prisoners between the double file of soldiers who were to conduct
them to the Tribunal. Then the gloomy cortege started. When they entered
the court-room a loud shout rent the air. The hall was filled with
sans-culottes and tricoteuses who came every day to feast their eyes
upon the agony of the prisoners, and to accompany them to the
guillotine. Never was there such an intense and long-continued thirst
for blood as prevailed in those horrible days.

The prisoners were obliged to pass through this hooting and yelling
crowd, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that the soldiers
protected them from its violence. Several wooden benches occupied the
space between the bar and the chairs of the judges; and upon these the
prisoners were seated, eleven on each bench and so close together that
it was almost impossible for them to make the slightest movement. On
their right stood the arm chair of the prosecuting attorney, or
"accusateur;" on their left, were the seats of the jurors. Ten minutes
passed, and the noise and confusion increased until it became positively
deafening. Suddenly, a door opened and the court entered. The judges
came first, dressed in black, with p