the judges were about to retire when suddenly a man made his way
through the crowd to the bar, and cried a stentorian voice:

"The sentence you have just pronounced is infamous. You are not judges,
but assassins and executioners."

Then he crossed his arms upon his breast and glowered defiance on the
indignant and wrathful judges.

"Arrest that man!" thundered the public accusateur.

Two gendarmes sprang forward, and the officer who had just spoken added:

"Citizen judges, I place this prisoner at your bar. Question him that
the citizen jurors may decide upon his fate."

It was Coursegol, who, hearing Dolores condemned, had suddenly resolved
not to survive her, but to die with her.

"Unfortunate man!" murmured the young girl, and for the first time that
morning her eyes filled with tears.

Coursegol looked at her as if to ask if she thought him worthy of her.
In answer to the question put by the chief judge, he curtly replied:

"It is useless to seek any other explanation of my conduct than that
which I am about to give. I am weary of the horrors which I have
witnessed. I hate the Republic and its supporters. I am a Royalist; and
I have no other wish than to seal with my blood, the opinions I have
here proclaimed.

"Citizen jurors," cried his accuser, angrily; "I ask for this man a
punishment which shall be an example to any who may desire to imitate
him."

"He is mad!" objected one of the jurors.

"No, I am not mad!" cried Coursegol. "Down with the Republic and long
live the King!"

There was such boldness in this defiance that a profound stillness made
itself felt in the crowded hall. Judges and jurors conferred together in
wrathful whispers. In a few moments, Coursegol was condemned to suffer
death upon the guillotine for having been guilty of the heinous crime of
insulting the court in the exercise of its functions, and of uttering
seditious words in its presence. Then he approached Dolores. She was
sobbing violently, entirely overcome by this scene which had moved her
much more deeply than her own misfortunes.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle," said he, "for being so bold as to resolve
not to survive you; but even in death, my place is beside you."

"My friend! my protector! my father!" sobbed Dolores.

And yielding to an irresistible impulse, she threw herself into
Coursegol's arms. He held her pressed tightly to his breast until he was
ordered to make ready to start for the prison with the other vic