e proof of the impartiality
and independence with which I can judge that great memory, the fame of
which still echoes in this town."

"Hear! hear!" cried the assembly, almost unanimously.

"I am firmly convinced," resumed Sallenauve, "that if Danton had been
born in a calm and peaceful epoch like our own, he would have shown
himself, what in fact he was, a good father, a good husband, a warm and
faithful friend, a man of kindly temper, who, by the force of his great
talents, would have risen to some eminent place in the State and in
society."

"Yes, yes! bravo! very good!"

"Born, on the contrary, in troublesome times, and amid the storm of
unchained passions, Danton was better constituted than others to kindle
the flame of that atmosphere of fire. Danton was the torch that fired;
his scarlet glare lent itself only too readily to scenes of blood
and horror which I must not recall. But, they said, the national
independence was at stake, traitors and dissemblers must be awed,--in
a word, a cruel and awful sacrifice was necessary for the public weal.
Messieurs, I do not accept that theory. To kill, without the necessity
demonstrated a score of times of legitimate defence, to kill women,
children, prisoners, unarmed men, was a crime,--a crime, look at it how
you will, that was execrable; those who ordered it, those who consented
to it, those who executed it are, to my mind, deserving of the same
reprobation."

I wish I could give you an idea, madame, of the tone and expression
of Sallenauve as he uttered this anathema. You know how his face is
transfigured when an ardent thought comes into his mind. The assemblage
was mute and gloomy. Evidently he had wounded their sensibilities; but,
under the curb of his powerful hand, it dared not throw up its head.

"But," he continued, "to all consummated and irreparable crimes there
are two issues,--repentance and expiation. His repentance Danton did not
utter,--he was too proud a man,--but he _acted_ it. He was the first,
to the sound of that axe falling without pity and without respite,--the
first, at the risk of his own head being the next victim,--to call for a
'committee of mercy.' It was the sure, the infallible means of bringing
him to expiation; and you all know whether, when that day of expiation
came, he quailed before it. Passing through death,--won by his
courageous effort to stop the effusion of blood,--it may be truly said
that the face and the memory of Danton ha