his mind is gone. Bouvet! Bouvet de Lozier! knowest
thou this?" He tore from his bosom a miniature, surrounded with large
brilliants, and held it to the eyes of the youth.

A wild shriek broke from the youth as he fell back in strong
convulsions. The dreadful cry seemed like the last wail of expiring
reason, so sad, so piercing was its cadence.

"Look, see!" said George, turning a savage scowl upon the crowd; "they
have taken away his mind; he is an idiot."

"The General George Cadoudal," cried a loud voice from the centre of the
court.

"Here," was the firm reply.

"This way, sir; the carriage yonder."

"Monsieur Sol de Gisolles!"

"Here," replied a tall, aristocratic-looking personage, in deep
mourning.

Sous-Lieutenant Burke was next called, and I followed the others, and
soon found myself seated in a close calecfie, with a gendarme beside me,
while two mounted men of the corps sat at either side of the carriage
with drawn swords. Picot, the servant of George, the faithful Breton,
was next summoned; and Lebourgeois, an old but handsome man, in the
simple habit of a farmer, with his long white hair, and soft kind
countenance. Many other names were called over, and nearly an hour
elapsed before the ceremony was concluded, and the order was given to
move forward.

At last the heavy gates were opened, and the procession issued forth.
I was surprised to see that the entire Boulevard was lined with troops,
behind which thousands of people were closely wedged, all the windows,
and even the housetops, being filled with spectators.

When we reached the quays, the crowd was greater still, and it required
all the efforts of the troops to keep it back sufficiently to permit an
open space for the carriages; while at all the streets that opened
at the quays, mounted dragoons were stationed to prevent any carriage
passing down. Never had I beheld such a vast multitude of people;
and yet, through all that crowded host, a deep, solemn silence
prevailed,--not a cry nor a shout was heard in all the way. Once only,
at the corner of the Pont Neuf, a cry of "Vive Moreau!" was given by
some one in the crowd; but it was a solitary voice, and the moment
after I saw a gendarme force his way through the mass, and seizing a
miserable-looking creature by the neck, hurry him along beside his horse
towards the guardhouse. On crossing the bridge, I saw that a company of
artillery and two guns were placed in position beside Desaix's
m