the tumult was instantly changed into attention. His voice was
tremulous and scarcely audible at first; it was evident that indignation
as much as sorrow choked his utterance.

"Gentlemen," said he, "I had a brother, a good patriot, who, through the
estimation in which he was held by his fellow citizens, had been
successively elected commandant of the national guard, and member for
the department. Ever ready to sacrifice himself for the revolution and
the law, it was in the name of the revolution and the law that he was
called upon to march to Nancy at the head of the brave national guards,
and there he fell pierced by five bayonet-wounds, and by the hand of
those who, ... I demand, if I am condemned to behold here the assassins
of my brother." "Well, then, leave the chamber," cried a stern voice.
The tribunes applauded this speech, more cruel and poignant than the
thrust of a dagger. Indignation enabled M. de Gouvion to overcome his
contempt. "Who is the dastard who himself in order to insult the grief
of a brother?" cried he, glancing around to discover the speaker. "I
will tell my name--'tis I," replied the deputy Choudieu, rising from his
seat. Loud applause from the tribunes followed this insult of
Choudieu's; it would seem as though this crowd had no longer any
feeling, and that passion triumphed over nature. But M. de Gouvion was
sustained by a sentiment stronger than popular fury--that of generous
despair; he continued: "As a man, I applauded the clemency of the
National Assembly when it burst the fetters of these unhappy soldiers
who were misled." He was again interrupted, but continued: "the decrees
of the Constituent Assembly, the orders of the king, the voice of their
officers, the cries of their country, all were unavailing; without
provocation on the part of the national guards of the two departments,
they fired on Frenchmen, and my brother fell a victim to his obedience
to the laws. No, I cannot remain silent, so long as the memory of the
national guards is disgraced by the honours decreed to these men who
murdered them."

Couthon, a young Jacobin, seated not far from Robespierre, from whose
eyes he seemed to gain his secret inspirations, rose and replied to
Gouvion, without insulting him. "Who is the slave of prejudices that
would venture to dishonour men whom the law has absolved; who would not
repress his personal grief in the interest and the triumph of liberty?"
But Gouvion's voice touched that chor