guillotine, bades the trembling executioner
release Henriette--himself personally unstraps her from the death
board. So ensues a scene that would wring even a heart of stone: the
delivery of a demented girl from Death's very passion and utmost
pang!

Danton takes the little form in his arms, looks in her eyes, kisses
her and tries to make her understand.

"For the honor of France," he cries to the assembled multitude, as he
still upholds her swaying figure, "a monstrous injustice is righted.
This girl, and that young patriot," signifying to the attendants that
de Vaudrey should be unloosed, "are reprieved by the order of the
Revolutionary Tribunal!" The multitude--caught by Danton's tensely
dramatic announcement--applauds, even as it had jeered and mocked a
few moments since.

But the girl, kept from falling by his protective left arm, still
gazes upon him idiotically. She had died, was it not true ? How then,
she lives? What are these crowds, and who is this stranger? The
gallant rescuer fears that her reason is gone!

"Release that boy!"

He has seen the wounded Pierre trussed in the far corner of the
scaffold, guessed that some wild deed of the lad's stayed the judicial
murder. His tones to the officials are sharp, imperative. The outraged
superior of the hacked executioner looks around the assemblage for
some prop of resistance--finds none--trembles--and is all bows and
scrapes to do Danton's will. Pierre crawls painfully across the
platform. He kisses the hem of his Savior's garment.

Danton has brought Henriette to the ground. He is looking for her
friends now. Catching sight of blind Louise starting up the steps, he
brings her around and puts the loved sisters in front of one
another.... Slowly the light of understanding comes into the eyes of
her who had most loved and most suffered. She embraces Louise....
Danton is looking for yet another figure, the affianced of Henriette.
He draws over de Vaudrey, places the latter's right hand within the
free hand of Henriette.

"Take her," he says kindly to de Vaudrey. "It is enough for me that I
have saved France from this foul blot!..."

... Down in the crowd, too, the fortunes of war have changed. The
wicked Frochards, who have been egging on the crowds to jeer the
victims, have become distinctly unpopular. It is Picard's turn to jest
the Frochards now.

A grenadier offers a little friendly assistance with the bayonet,
pricking the old hag in a tender part