e some Spectral Horseman; the rest riding like
the Valkyries--as it were, twixt Heaven and earth--their galloping
beats scorning the ground as they rush by to the hissing of the
cleaved and angry winds.

But what avails it?...

Even on the straightway 'twere a quarter-hour ride to the outer-suburban
locality where the guillotine does its dreadful work. Ancient Paris with
its tortuous streets delays them. Ahead, are Jacques-Forget-Not--Jacobin
troops--barriers--gates.

Poor little Henriette's golden head!

Is it not fated to drop in the basket long, long before they can
appear?

CHAPTER XXVIII

MANIAC WITH A DAGGER

A sansculotte soldier, less brutal than his fellows, had allowed
Louise and Pierre to approach one side of the scaffold. They were more
privileged than the frantic Picard, who could not get near his young
master and mistress. Revolutionary infantry guarded every side of the
public square. Intermingled among them were the favored hoodlums of
the Jacobin party, execrating the victims and howling with glee
whenever the dread axe fell.

Among the riff-raff, Mere Frochard and her precious son Jacques
Frochard were conspicuous. For no particular reason they were gloating
over the cutting-off of aristocrats, whilst indulging in rough
horseplay at the expense of the friends of the condemned. Picard's
quaint look of helpless sympathy excited ready mirth.

"Sniveling over those good-for-nothings, eh?" La Frochard curled her
heavy moustachioed lip in scorn.

"We'll find a way to make that sensitive young man feel something--"
she confided to Jacques. A moment later she had pulled over a
sansculotte's bayonet, with which she executed a neat jab into
Picard's anatomy.

Picard leaped in the air like a jumping jack. When he descended to
earth and turned to survey the cause of his torment, he faced but an
impassive trooper with weapon at parade rest and the grinning
countenances of Mere and Jacques Frochard, convulsed with laughter.

Picard decided the vicinity of the guillotine was almost as dangerous
for him as for his master. He edged out of range, biding the occasion
for a counter-thrust....

Pierre and Louise stood on the other side of the scaffold, the heavy
structure of which quite hid the ruffian Frochards and their horseplay
with Picard.

Henriette had been borne up the steps of the guillotine a few moments
before Pierre and Louise reached the scene. The cripple, terribly
excited, was te