rage," said Coconnas; "we may perhaps find all this above."

"Do you think so?" murmured La Mole.

"I think so, because the priest said so; and above all, because I hope
so. But do not faint, my friend, or these staring wretches will laugh at
us."

Caboche heard the last words and whipping his horse with one hand he
extended the other, unseen by any one, to Coconnas. It contained a small
sponge saturated with a powerful stimulant, and La Mole, after smelling
it and rubbing his forehead with it, felt himself revived and
reanimated.

"Ah!" said La Mole, "I am better," and he kissed the reliquary, which he
wore around his neck.

As they turned a corner of the quay and reached the small edifice built
by Henry II. they saw the scaffold rising bare and bloody on its
platform above the heads of the crowd.

"Dear friend," said La Mole, "I wish I might be the first to die."

Coconnas again touched the hangman's shoulder.

"What is it, my gentleman?" said the latter, turning around.

"My good fellow," said Coconnas, "you will do what you can for me, will
you not? You said you would."

"Yes, and I repeat it."

"My friend has suffered more than I and consequently has less
strength"--

"Well?"

"Well, he says that it would cause him too much pain to see me die
first. Besides, if I were to die before him he would have no one to
support him on the scaffold."

"Very well," said Caboche, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand;
"be easy, it shall be as you wish."

"And with one blow, eh?" said the Piedmontese in a low tone.

"With one blow."

"That is well. If you have to make up for it, make up on me."

The tumbril stopped. They had arrived. Coconnas put on his hat.

A murmur like that of the waves at sea reached the ears of La Mole. He
strove to rise, but strength failed him. Caboche and Coconnas supported
him under the arms.

The place was paved with heads; the steps of the Hotel de Ville seemed
an amphitheatre peopled with spectators. Each window was filled with
animated faces, the eyes of which seemed on fire.

When they saw the handsome young man, no longer able to support himself
on his bruised legs, make a last effort to reach the scaffold, a great
shout rose like a cry of universal desolation. Men groaned and women
uttered plaintive shrieks.

"He was one of the greatest courtiers!" said the men; "and he should not
have to die at Saint Jean en Greve, but at the Pre aux Clercs."

"How handsome