way, and once more there was silence. La Valentinois sat
still, watching the prisoners behind her fan; and then De Mouchy, in a
speech that was dignified and impressive even to me who knew the
unheard-of guilt of the man, passed the last sentence of the law. The
sin of the prisoners was amply proved. It was against the King, and, he
bent his head, against the Church of God. The King had already shown his
mercy--all men had seen and felt it--but the wrath of God had shown
itself in the disasters that had smitten the land, and France must be
purged clean of the sin of heresy. As for the judge, the laws, and, in
chief, the Edict of Compiegne, gave him no power to mitigate the
punishment of wretches so guilty as these who stood now before him. And
so Diane, Demoiselle de Paradis, and Jean, Sieur de Ferrieres, were
condemned to be drawn two days hence on hurdles to the Place Maubert,
there to suffer the greater torture and the less, and there to have their
bodies consumed by fire, as Almighty God would hereafter consume their
souls.

And then, amidst an awed hush, the blasphemer who sat upon the judgment
seat made a sign to the guards to remove the prisoners, and, bending
down, began slowly to gather up his papers.

As the terrible words fell from De Mouchy's lips I was for the moment
overcome, and the immense hall seemed to swim before me, so that I had to
support myself by holding to the railings of the gallery.

La Valentinois had risen, and was leaning forward looking hard at Diane,
as if expecting some cry, some appeal for mercy; but at the last words of
De Mouchy mademoiselle had bent her head in silent prayer, and then her
calm, pure eyes met those of the wicked woman before her, and rested on
her for a moment with a grave pity in them, as she said in a clear voice:

"Madame, God has already taken one of us beyond your reach." And she
pointed to Ferrieres. "As for me, His mercy will come to me too, I pray;
and may He forgive you as I, who am to die, forgive you now."

It was truth she spoke. A hand more powerful than aught earthly had
rescued Ferrieres, and he was dead. He had passed as he stood there,
held by the warders, and the lifeless figure, with its glazed eyes
staring into the unknown, was only kept from falling by the supporting
hands around it. Even De Mouchy paled; and La Valentinois, who had
striven to meet mademoiselle's look with her cruel laugh, shrank back and
covered her face with her h