At the moment our scene again opens upon the lugubrious theatre, whither we are led by a tissue of events rather than by our own inclinations, the jury were deliberating; a cause had just been tried. Two of the accused had already, by one of those insolent anticipations by which they ridiculed the judges, attired themselves for the scaffold, and were conversing with their counsel, whose words somewhat resembled those of a physician who despairs of the life of his patient.
The people of the Tribune were this day in a ferocious mood, calculated to excite the severity of the jury placed under the immediate surveillance of the gossips and inhabitants of the suburbs. The juries under these circumstances became more excited and energetic, resembling an actor who redoubles his efforts beneath the eyes of a censorious public.
Since ten in the morning five condemnations had already taken place under the decisions of these harsh and insatiable juries.
The two individuals who now found themselves on the bench of the accused awaited the decisive moment when[Pg 467] "yes" or "no" would return them to life or doom them to death.
The audience, rendered savage by the daily occurrence of these spectacles, now become their favorite pastime, prepared them by exclamations and anticipations for the awful moment.
"There! there! look at the tall one!" said a beldam, who, not having a bonnet, wore a tricolored cockade as large as a hand on her head,—"there! is he not pale? One would swear he was already dead."
The condemned regarded the woman with a contemptuous smile.
"What do you say?" replied her neighbor; "why, he is smiling."
"Yes; on the wrong side of his mouth."
One of the men looked at his watch.
"What is the time?" inquired his companion.
"A quarter to one. This has lasted three quarters of an hour."
"The same as at Domfront, that unfortunate town, where you arrive at noon, and are hung in an hour."
"And the short one! the short one!" cried another person, "will he not be ugly when he sneezes in the sack?"
"Bah! it is done so quickly, you will barely have time to perceive it."
"Then we will demand the head from Sanson; one has a right to see it."
"Look! what a beautiful blue coat he has on. It is rather a pleasant thing that the poor can shorten the rich and well-dressed people."
Indeed, as the executioner had told the queen, the poor inherited the spoils of each victim; they were carried to La Salpêtrière, immediately after the execution, and dis[Pg 468]tributed among the indigent; and there even the clothes of the unfortunate queen had been conveyed.
Maurice heard this whirlwind of words without paying any attention; for he was at this moment occupied by one engrossing thought, to the exclusion of all else. For several days his heart beat only at certain moments, and by fits and starts, as from time to time hope or fear appeared to suspend all vital action, and these perpetual oscillations to bruise the most tender sensibilities of his soul.
The jury returned to their places; and as had been fully anticipated, the president pronounced the condemnation of the two accused, who were directly removed, walking with a firm step and erect bearing,—for at this epoch every one learned to die boldly.
The solemn and sinister voice of the usher was again heard.
"The public prosecutor against the Citizeness Geneviève Dixmer."
A shudder ran through Maurice's frame, and a cold sweat bedewed his brow. The little door by which the accused entered suddenly opened, and Geneviève appeared. She was dressed in white; her ringlets were tastefully arranged, instead of being cut short, hanging in long masses of clustering curls. Doubtless, to the last moment poor Geneviève wished to appear beautiful to her lover, who might perchance be able to see her.
Maurice beheld Geneviève, and felt that all the strength he had collected was inadequate to this occasion, notwithstanding he had expected this blow, since for twelve days he had not omitted a single sitting, and three times already had the name of Geneviève proceeded from the mouth of the public prosecutor, and reached his ear. But there are certain griefs and miseries so profound[Pg 469] that it is quite impossible to sound the depths of the abyss.
All those who witnessed the appearance of this young female, so lovely, so pale and innocent, uttered a simultaneous cry; some of fury,—for at this period there existed a class of people who detested everything bordering on superiority of beauty, riches, or of birth,—others of admiration, and some of pity. Geneviève, doubtless, among all these cries had recognized one cry, amid all these voices had distinguished one voice, for she turned in the direction of Maurice, while the president, looking up at her from time to time, turned over the law papers of the accused.
At the first glance she discovered Maurice, concealed as his features were under the broad brim of his hat; and turning round with a sweet smile, and a gesture still more engaging, she pressed her rosy but trembling hands upon her lips, and depositing her whole soul with her breath, she gave wings to a last kiss, which only one in this vast crowd had the right to appropriate to himself.
A murmur of interest ran through the hall. Geneviève, recalled, turned toward her judges, but stopping suddenly in the midst of this movement, her eyes dilated, and became fixed with an undefinable expression of horror toward one point of the hall.
Maurice in vain raised himself on his toes; he saw nothing, or rather something of more consequence recalled his attention to the scene that was being enacted,—that is to say, to the Tribunal.
Fouquier Tinville had commenced reading the act of accusation. This act stated that Geneviève Dixmer was the wife of an obstinate conspirator suspected of having assisted the ex-Chevalier de Maison-Rouge in his succes[Pg 470]sive attempts to rescue the queen. She had, besides, been surprised at the feet of the queen, entreating her to exchange garments with her, and offering to die in her stead. This absurd fanaticism, continued the act, merited, no doubt, the admiration of the counter-revolutionists; but in our day every French citizen owes his life to the nation; it is therefore double treason to sacrifice it to the enemies of France.
Geneviève, when asked if she acknowledged that she had knelt before the queen, as stated by the two gendarmes Gilbert and Duchesne, and had entreated her to exchange vestments, simply replied, "Yes."
"Then," said the president, "inform us of your plan, and what hope you entertained of its success."
Geneviève smiled.
"A woman might conceive hopes," said she, "but a woman could not form a plan like this of which I am the victim."
"How came you there, then?"
"Not of my own accord. I was compelled."
"Who compelled you?" demanded the public prosecutor.
"Those who menaced me with death if I did not obey;" and again the agitated look of the young woman was centred on that part of the hall invisible to Maurice.
"But to escape from this death which menaced you, did you not know that you faced that death which must result from your condemnation?"
"When I consented, the knife was at my throat, while the guillotine was only in perspective. I succumbed under present violence."
"Why did you not call for assistance? All good citizens would have defended you."
"Alas! sir," said Geneviève, in a voice at once so sad[Pg 471] and sweet that it caused Maurice's heart to beat tumultuously, "I had no one near me."
Commiseration succeeded to interest, as interest had succeeded to curiosity. Many heads were lowered, some to conceal their tears, many to allow them to flow freely.
Just then Maurice perceived on his left an immovable head and an inflexible countenance. It was Dixmer, standing dark, gloomy, and implacable, never for a moment losing sight of Geneviève or of the Tribunal.
The blood rushed to the young man's temples; rage mounted from his heart to his forehead, filling his whole being with intense desire for vengeance. He darted at Dixmer a look so replete with burning hate, so condensed and powerful, that he, as if attracted by the electric fluid, turned his head toward his enemy. Their glances encountered like two flashes.
"Tell us the names of your instigators," said the president.
"There was only one, sir."
"Who?"
"My husband."
"Do you know where he is?"
"Yes."
"Inform us of his retreat."
"He has been brutal, but I will not be cowardly. It is not for me to tell you his retreat, but for you to find him."
Maurice looked at Dixmer. He never moved. One idea flashed through the young man's brain. It was to denounce him at the same time that he denounced himself; but he quickly suppressed the thought.
"No," said he; "it is not thus that he should die."
"Then you refuse to assist us in our search?" said the president.
[Pg 472]
"I think, sir, I could not do so without rendering myself as contemptible in the eyes of others as he is in mine."
"Are there any witnesses?" demanded the president.
"There is one," replied the usher.
"Call the witness."
"Maximilien-Jean Lorin!" shouted the usher.
"Lorin!" cried Maurice, "Oh, my God! what has happened?"
This scene took place the same day that Lorin had been arrested, and Maurice was in utter ignorance of the fact.
"Lorin!" murmured Geneviève, looking round with anxious solicitude.
"Why does not the witness answer to the call?" demanded the president.
"Citizen President," said Fouquier Tinville, "upon a recent denunciation the witness was arrested at his own house; he will be brought directly."
Maurice started.
"There is another still more important witness," continued Fouquier; "but we have not yet been able to find him."
Dixmer turned toward Maurice smiling. Perhaps the same idea flitted through the mind of the husband which had before entered that of the lover.
Geneviève, pale and horror-stricken, uttered a low groan.
At this moment Lorin entered, followed by two gendarmes.
After him, and by the same door, Simon appeared, who came to take his seat in the judgment-hall, according to his custom in that locality.
"Your name and surname?" inquired the president.
[Pg 473]
"Maximilien-Jean Lorin."
"Your condition in life?"
"Independent."
"You will not remain so long," muttered Simon, shaking his fist at him.
"Are you related to the prisoner at the bar?"
"No; but I have the honor of being one of her friends."
"Are you aware that she conspired to carry off the queen?"
"How could I be aware of it?"
"She might have confided in you?"
"In me! a member of the section of the Thermopyles? A likely story!"
"Notwithstanding, you have sometimes been seen with her."
"I might have been seen with her often."
"Did you know that she was an aristocrat?"
"I knew her as the wife of a master-tanner."
"But her husband did not in reality follow the business which he pretended to."
"Of that I am ignorant; her husband was not one of my friends."
"Tell us what you know of this husband."
"Oh, very willingly. He is a villain, who—"
"Monsieur Lorin," said Geneviève, "for pity's sake!"
Lorin continued unmoved.
"He is a villain, who has sacrificed his wife, the poor woman before you, not so much to his political opinions as to his private hatred. Faugh! I look upon the brute as lower and more degraded even than Simon."
Dixmer became livid with rage. Simon wished to speak, but a gesture from the president imposed silence.
[Pg 474]
"You appear to know the whole history, Citizen Lorin," said Fouquier; "continue your testimony."
"Pardon me, Citizen Fouquier," said Lorin, rising; "I know nothing more." He bowed and reseated himself.
"Citizen Lorin," said Fouquier, "it is your bounden duty to enlighten this Tribunal."
"It has received all the light that I can give it. As to this poor woman, I repeat she has only acted under compulsion. Look at her! does she look like a conspirator? What she has done she was compelled to do. That is all."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"In the name of the law," said Fouquier, "I require that the witness Lorin shall be placed before this Tribunal as an accomplice of this woman."
Maurice groaned, while Geneviève buried her face in her hands.
Simon screamed out in a transport of joy, "Citizen Prosecutor, you are the savior of your country!"
As to Lorin, he leaped over the balustrade without making any reply, and seating himself near to Geneviève, took her hand, and respectfully kissed it, saying, "Good-day, Madame," with a coolness which electrified the assembly; "how do you do?"
Then he took his seat on the bench of the accused.
[Pg 475]