s such as yours the laws of
God and man have but one punishment. But bearing in mind the services
you have rendered by denouncing your fellow-conspirators and discovering
their secrets to the King's most trusty servants, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain,
and myself, the King at the intercession of Madame the Duchess de
Valentinois has in his gracious mercy spared your life on condition that
you quit France within four and twenty hours. Monsieur, you are free."

As these astonishing words fell from the judge's lips--words that branded
De Ganache with unutterable infamy--the miserable man looked around him
like an animal at bay; and then, a madness coming upon him, he broke out
into peal after peal of harsh, mirthless laughter--laughter that seemed
to come from the grave and beyond; and, laughing thus, they led him away.
When he was gone De Mouchy pointed to Ferrieres as he said to a warder:

"Arouse him!"

They dragged the fainting man to his feet, and he stood limply between
two gaolers; and then the judge asked:

"Prisoners, is there anything you would like to say?"

And mademoiselle answered for both, in a low but distinct voice:

"Nothing. We confess we are of the true faith, and we are willing to die
for it. As to our having conspired against the King--we are innocent!"

And as she spoke some strange idea must have passed through the wandering
brain of Ferrieres. Half in delirium, he looked about him, and with a
supreme effort, standing free of the warders, he called out in a loud,
fever-strung voice:

"_Vive le Roi_!"

It was one of those moments when the sympathy of a crowd can be caught by
a word. Small and mean-looking as he was there was something so forlorn
and hopeless in the gallant cry of the doomed man that all hearts were
touched. A low, responsive murmur broke from the spectators, and then
with one voice they too shouted:

"_Vive le Roi_!"

They heard it outside--the multitude who thronged the stairways, the
courtyards, and the Place de Greve. And they too yelled with brazen
lungs, and the roar of their voices came to us through the open windows,
with the sunbeams that lit the shadows of the vast and gloomy hall.
Never did subjects hail their king in a moment more sad.

Ferrieres had sunk back in a crumpled heap, and mademoiselle was leaning
over him in womanly sympathy; but the guards thrust her aside, and held
up the dying man once more to hear, if he could, his sentence. The
tumult sank a