In leaping the balustrade Lorin saw the dark and sneering features of Dixmer.
When, as we have said, he had placed himself near Geneviève, she whispered in his ear.
"Mon Dieu!" said she, "do you know that Maurice is here?"
"Where?"
"Do not look round directly; one look might prove his ruin."
"Calm yourself."
"Behind us, near the door. What a trial for him if we are condemned!"
Lorin regarded the young woman with tender sympathy.
"We shall be," said he. "I conjure you not to doubt it. The deception would be too cruel if you were to permit yourself to hope."
"Oh, my God!" said Geneviève, "pity our poor friend, who will remain alone in the world!"
[Pg 476]
Lorin then turned round toward Maurice, and Geneviève also could not refrain from glancing at him.
His eyes were fixed upon them both, and one hand was placed upon his heart.
"There is one way to save you," said Lorin.
"Are you sure?" said Geneviève, her eyes sparkling with joy.
"Oh, of that one I am sure," replied Lorin.
"Oh, if you can save me how I will bless you!"
"But this way—" replied the young man.
Geneviève read his hesitation in his eyes.
"You have also seen him?" said she.
"Yes; I have seen him. Will you be saved? Let him, in his turn, take his seat in the iron arm-chair, and you will be safe." Dixmer, doubtless from Lorin's look and the expression of his countenance, divined what he uttered. He at first turned pale, but soon recovered his gloomy composure and satanic smile.
"Impossible!" said Geneviève; "I can no longer hate him."
"Say that he knows your generous nature, and defies you."
"No doubt; for he is sure of him, of me, of us all."
"Geneviève! Geneviève! I am less perfect than you. Let me bring him here! Let him perish!"
"No, Lorin, I conjure you. Nothing in common with that man, not even death. It seems to me I should be unfaithful to Maurice were I to die with Dixmer."
"But you will not die."
"How can I live when Maurice is to die?"
"Ah!" said Lorin, "Maurice has reason to love you; you are an angel, and heaven is the angels' home. Poor dear Maurice!"
In the mean time Simon, who could not overhear the[Pg 477] conversation between the accused, devoured their looks instead of their words.
"Citizen Gendarme," said he, "prevent those conspirators from continuing their plots against the Republic, even in the Revolutionary Tribunal."
"You know, Citizen Simon," replied the gendarme, "that here they conspire no more, and if they do so it will not be for long. These citizens are only conversing together; and since the law does not forbid them to do so in the car, why should it be forbidden at the Tribunal?"
This gendarme was Gilbert, who, having recognized the prisoner taken in the queen's chamber, avowed with his ordinary honesty the interest which he could not help according to her courage and devotion.
The president having consulted the court, at the request of Fouquier Tinville commenced his questions.
"Accused Lorin," demanded he, "of what nature was your acquaintance with the citizen Madame Dixmer?"
"Of what nature, Citizen President?"
"The pure flame of friendship bound us one to another;
As a sister she loved me, and I her as a brother."
"Citizen Lorin," said Fouquier Tinville, "your poetry is out of season here, and the rhythm is bad."
"Why so?"
"You have one syllable too many."
"Cut it off! cut it off! Citizen Prosecutor! that is your trade, you know."
The imperturbable countenance of Fouquier Tinville assumed a pallid hue at this horrible pleasantry.
"And in what light," demanded the president, "did the Citizen Dixmer view this liaison of a professed Republican with his wife?"
"As to that I can tell you nothing, declaring that I[Pg 478] was never acquainted with the Citizen Dixmer, and never had any desire to be so."
"But," resumed Fouquier Tinville, "you did not tell us that your friend Maurice Lindey formed the link of this pure friendship between yourself and the accused?"
"If I did not say so," replied Lorin, "it was because it seemed to me wrong to speak of it; and I think that you might even follow my example."
"The citizen jurors," said Fouquier Tinville, "will appreciate this singular alliance between an aristocrat and two Republicans, and at the very moment when this aristocrat is convicted of the blackest plot that could be concocted against the nation."
"How should I know anything concerning this plot you speak of?" demanded Lorin, disgusted by the brutal stupidity of the argument.
"You were acquainted with this woman; you were her friend; you term yourself her brother; you speak of her as your sister,—and you were not cognizant of her proceedings? Is it then probable, as you have yourself remarked," continued the president, "that she would have committed alone this act imputed to her?"
"She did not commit it alone," replied Lorin, repeating the technical words used by the president; "since, as she has told you, and I have told you, and now repeat, her husband compelled her."
"Then how is it that you are not acquainted with the husband," said Fouquier Tinville, "since the husband was united with the wife?"
It remained only for Lorin to recount the first disappearance of Dixmer; to mention the amours of Geneviève and his friend; and, in short, to relate the manner in which Dixmer had carried off and concealed his wife in some impenetrable retreat,—it needed only this to ex[Pg 479]culpate himself from all connivance, and to elucidate the whole mystery. But for this he must betray the secrets of his two friends; to do this would be to put Geneviève to shame before five hundred people. Lorin shook his head, as if saying "no" to himself.
"Well?" demanded the president, "what do you reply to the public prosecutor?"
"That his logic is crushing," said Lorin; "and I am now convinced of one thing which I never even suspected before."
"What is that?"
"That I am, as it appears, one of the most frightful conspirators that has ever been seen."
This declaration elicited a roar of laughter; even the jury could not refrain, so ludicrous was the young man's manner in enunciating these words.
Fouquier felt the ridicule; and since with his usual indefatigable perseverance he had managed to know all the secrets of the accused as well as they did themselves, he could not help feeling toward Lorin a sentiment of pity mingled with admiration.
"Come, Citizen Lorin," said he, "speak in your own defence. The Tribunal will lend a willing ear. We are acquainted with your previous conduct, and it has always been that of a stanch Republican."
Simon essayed to speak; but the president made him a signal to remain silent.
"Speak, Citizen Lorin!" said he; "we are all attention;" but Lorin only shook his head.
"This silence is confession," said the president.
"Not so," said Lorin; "silence is silence, that is all."
"Once more," said Fouquier Tinville; "will you speak?"
Lorin turned toward the audience to encounter the[Pg 480] eyes of Maurice, and to learn from them what course he would wish him to pursue; but Maurice made no sign to him to speak, and Lorin maintained his former silence. This was self-condemnation.
All that followed was quickly executed. Fouquier summed up his accusation; the president reviewed the evidence; the jury retired, and unanimously returned a verdict of "guilty" against Lorin and Geneviève.
The president condemned them both to suffer the penalty of death.
Two o'clock sounded from the great clock of the Palace.
The president had just time sufficient to pronounce the condemnation as the clock struck.
Maurice heard the two with a sense of confusion and utter bewilderment.
When the vibration had ceased, his strength was utterly exhausted. The gendarmes led away Geneviève and Lorin, who had offered her his arm.
Both saluted Maurice, but in different ways. Lorin smiled; but Geneviève, pale and fainting, wafted him a last kiss upon her fingers, bathed in tears.
She had till the last moment clung to the hope of life, and now wept, not the loss of her life, but of her love, which must perish with her.
Maurice, half mad, had not replied to his friends' farewell. He rose, pale and bewildered, from the bench on which he had fallen. His friends had disappeared.
He felt only one sentiment alive within him. It was the hatred which was gnawing at his heart.
He threw a last look around him and recognized Dixmer, who was leaving with the rest of the spectators, and at that moment stooped to pass under the arched door of the passage.
[Pg 481]
With the rapidity of a steel spring when it unbends, Maurice sprang from bench to bench, and reached the door.
Dixmer had already passed through, and descended into the darkened corridor. Maurice followed behind him. At the moment Dixmer planted his foot on the pavement of the grand hall, Maurice tapped him on the shoulder.
[Pg 482]