ottes
cheered; the tricoteuses, seated in knots, clapped their hands wildly in
savage joy, delighted that more blood was speedily to be spilled. It was
an appalling scene, steeped in horror.

Coursegol moved towards Dolores to put his arm about her and sustain her
trembling form. He was rudely pulled back by the assistant who had him
in charge.

"If you are a man and have a heart, show some mercy!" he pleaded. "Let
me go to my daughter who is about to die!"

The assistant gave a demoniac scowl.

"There is no mercy for the enemies of the Republic!" he snarled. "Remain
where you are!"

Dolores glanced at Coursegol tenderly. The utmost thankfulness was in
her look. But she uttered not a word. She felt that speech would merely
augment her companion's misery and her own.

Those of the mob who were near enough to catch the assistant's brutal
reply to Coursegol applauded it. Their hearts seemed turned to stone.
Not a morsel of pity or human feeling was left in them. They were like
so many wild beasts eager to lap blood.

The executioner had bared his brawny arms for his fiendish task. His
face glowed with intense satisfaction.

"Come," said he, addressing his assistants. "We are wasting the Nation's
time and keeping hosts of patriots waiting for their just revenge. Death
to the enemies of the Republic!"

An officer unfolded a soiled and crumpled paper. He began to call the
death-roll.

The aged Royalist went to the guillotine first. In an instant the huge
knife descended; his life blood gushed forth and his head fell into the
basket. The executioner grasped the head by its white locks and held it
up, streaming with gore, to the gaze of the howling concourse.

"So perish all who hate France and liberty!" he shouted.

His shout was taken up and repeated from one end of the Place de la
Revolution to the other.

"So perish all who hate France and liberty!"

It was a sublime mockery of justice, a deliberate treading under foot of
all the rights of man. The sans-culottes and the tricoteuses rivaled
each other in the loudness and strength of their applause.

The youthful Royalist was the next victim, and the preceding scene with
all its horrors was repeated.

Then the Republican, accused of _Moderantisme_, met his fate, then the
priest, and then, one by one, the three women, each execution having a
similar finale.

Dolores and Coursegol alone were left of all the condemned. They looked
at each other, encouragin