You are a man, and as a man I tell you, you
need all your courage now. The Court is thrown open, and in an hour De
Mouchy delivers his sentence. The harlot of France is by his side----"
And he stopped, almost breaking down.

"Lorgnac, I am going there."

"It is useless. Le Brusquet is there. Come with me!"

But I turned on him fiercely. "I am going," I repeated, and, perhaps, he
read what was in my heart, for he put his arm through mine.

"Come, then. I will come with you."

True and tried friend though he was I shook him off roughly, and hurried
into the streets like a madman. How I reached the Hotel de Ville I
cannot tell! I seemed to have made the passage in darkness; but at last
I found myself there, pressing through the ever-increasing crowd that
thronged the entrance to the trial chamber; and finally, passing the
doors, I took my stand in the gallery reserved for spectators.

With burning eyes I looked upon the scene beneath me. Camus had just
concluded his evidence, and was bowing to the court, a smile on his
traitor's face as he listened to some words of compliment addressed to
him by De Mouchy. Simon, the man I wanted, was nowhere to be seen,
though my eyes, fierce with hatred, searched for him everywhere. But on
a seat beside the judge was La Valentinois herself, radiantly beautiful,
now fluttering her fan, now sniffing daintily at her vinaigrette, as she
bent her frosty glance on the prisoners. One was old Ferrieres. Like a
dying man, he leaned back in a chair that had been provided for him, for
his wounds left him no strength to stand. His eyes were closed. He
seemed to have fainted, and was oblivious of what was going on around
him, whilst death had already set its seal upon his haggard and drawn
face. Mademoiselle stood by his side, a hand resting on his chair. For
one brief second our eyes met, and she smiled at me--a brave smile--and I
bent my head in sorrow, for I could not look. It needed not the cry of
the ushers in the court for silence. Every tongue was still. There was
not a whisper, not a movement, for all felt that the supreme moment had
arrived. De Mouchy bent over his papers. I heard them rustling; and
then La Valentinois, leaning forward, said something to him in a low
voice. There was a word to an usher, and once more the insupportable
silence.

In a little we heard the steady tramp of feet. Nearer and nearer the
sound came. A side door in the body of the cou