und secreted in the
Tuileries, Fanfar replied with contempt. He told who this man was, and
the crimes of which he had been guilty. All this, however, by no means
proved that he himself was innocent of participation in the crime.
Fanfar had not mentioned the affair of the deserted house, for he did
not wish his sister's name to appear. This was a great relief to
Robeccal, who, in spite of the manner in which he had been treated by La
Roulante, did not wish to get her into trouble.

The trial took its course. Robeccal wept and expressed great penitence,
said that he loved the king, etc. All this produced an excellent effect
on the jury, who considered the fellow a little simple.

Then came Fanfar's turn. He stood with arms folded on his breast, and
once turned and looked toward the end of the court-room. He probably saw
what he wished, for he smiled, and a light came into his eyes. Then he
looked again at the President, and waited. In reality there was no other
charge against him than the persistent declaration of Robeccal, but this
was by the judges considered quite proof enough of his culpability.

"You belong to a secret association, do you not?" asked the judge.

"I am a Frenchman," answered Fanfar, "and like others of this heroic
nation claim liberty of thought and action. Do you call France a secret
society?"

The President reproved Fanfar for this speech, and called him in his
anger an assassin. The young man replied, in a voice of great feeling:

"Only those," he said, "should be called assassins who have cut the
throat of France and plucked a blood-stained crown from the men!"

There was a great tumult. "Bravo! Fanfar," said a voice among the
audience.

Naturally a dozen innocent men were accused of uttering this incendiary
exclamation, while Gudel, in a quiet livery, was not interfered with.
Irene de Salves never moved her eyes from Fanfar. Finally, quiet was
restored.

"Mr. President," said Fanfar, "my father fell in the French frontier,
fighting against the Cossacks and the emigres. There are no assassins in
our family!"

From this moment the trial went on rapidly. The sentence was a foregone
conclusion.

Robeccal was condemned to death. Fanfar, under the name of Jacques
Fougere, was sentenced to the galleys for life.

But just as the sentenced was pronounced, a singular event occurred.
Fanfar rose and opened his lips as if to speak, extended his arm, and
fell full length on the floor. Cries of