of his father. Jokes were
mingled with the sentences. The Marechale de Mouchy was old, and did not
reply to the questions of President Dumas. "The _citoyenne_ is deaf"
(_sourde_), said the registrar; "Put down that she has conspired
secretly" (_sourdement_), replied Dumas.

It became necessary to forbid Fouquier-Tinville to send more than sixty
victims a day to the scaffold. "Things go well, and see the heads fall
like slates with my file-firing; the next decade we shall do better
still; I shall want at least four hundred fifty." The lists were
prepared in the prison itself, by the class of informers known as
_moutons_.[42] The public accuser, like the judges and the jailers, was
often ignorant of the names of the human flock crowded in the dungeons.
Death recalled them to recollection. In the evening, under the windows
of each prison, the list of the victims of the day was shouted out.
"These are they who have gained prizes in the lottery of Saint
Guillotine." The unfortunates who crowded to the windows thus learned
the tidings of the execution of those they loved. The horrors of the
unforeseen and unknown were added to the agonies of death and
separation. Under the windows of the Conciergerie the names of the
Marechale de Noailles, the Duchesse d'Ayen and the Vicomtesse de
Noailles, who died together on the scaffold, were proclaimed. Among the
prisoners was Madame la Fayette, herself awaiting death; happily she did
not recognize in the coarse accents of the criers the cherished names of
her grandmother, mother, and sister. The peasants of the Vendee[43] came
to die at Paris, like the Carmelites of Compiegne or the magistrates of
Toulouse. It was astonishing that there still remained in the dungeons
great lords and noble ladies, bearing the most illustrious names in the
history of France; on the 8th and 9th Thermidor the poets Roucher and
Andre Chenier; Baron Trenck, famous for his numerous escapes; the
Marechale d'Armentieres, the Princesse de Chimay, the Comtesse de
Narbonne, the Duc de Clermont-Tonnerre, the Marquis de Crussol, and the
Messieurs de Trudaine, counsellors of the Parliament of Paris, perished
upon the scaffold.

Insulters always surrounded the scaffold, but their number had
decreased; the Committee of Public Safety no longer had recourse to the
popular manoeuvres of its early days. Terror was now sufficient to
insure the silence and submission of the victims. Paris grew weary of
the horrors of which