in the world but what I offer you."

"Well!" said Salcede, with a sigh, "I am ready to speak."

"It is a written and signed confession that the king exacts."

"Then untie my hands, and give me a pen and I will write it."

They loosened the cords from his wrists, and an usher who stood near
with writing materials placed them before him on the scaffold. "Now,"
said Tanchon, "state everything."

"Do not fear; I will not forget those who have forgotten me;" but as he
spoke, he cast another glance around.

While this was passing, the page, seizing the hand of Ernanton, cried,
"Monsieur, take me in your arms, I beg you, and raise me above the heads
of the people who prevent me from seeing."

"Ah! you are insatiable, young man."

"This one more service; I must see the condemned, indeed I must."

Then, as Ernanton still hesitated, he cried, "For pity's sake, monsieur,
I entreat you."

Ernanton raised him in his arms at this last appeal, and was somewhat
astonished at the delicacy of the body he held. Just as Salcede had
taken the pen, and looked round as we have said, he saw this young lad
above the crowd, with two fingers placed on his lips. An indescribable
joy spread itself instantaneously over the face of the condemned man,
for he recognized the signal so impatiently waited for, and which
announced that aid was near. After a moment's hesitation, however, he
took the paper and began to write.

"He writes!" cried the crowd.

"He writes!" exclaimed Catherine.

"He writes!" cried the king, "and I will pardon him."

Suddenly Salcede stopped and looked again at the lad, who repeated the
signal. He wrote on, then stopped to look once more; the signal was
again repeated.

"Have you finished?" asked Tanchon.

"Yes."--"Then sign."

Salcede signed, with his eyes still fixed on the young man. "For the
king alone," said he, and he gave the paper to the usher, though with
hesitation.

"If you have disclosed all," said Tanchon, "you are safe."

A strange smile strayed over the lips of Salcede. Ernanton, who was
fatigued, wished now to put down the page, who made no opposition. With
him disappeared all that had sustained the unfortunate man; he looked
round wildly and cried: "Well, come!"

No one answered.

"Quick! quick! the king holds the paper; he is reading!"

Still there was no response.

The king unfolded the paper.

"Thousand devils!" cried Salcede, "if they have deceived me! Yet it was
she--it was re