disappointed if his comrades did not rally round him at the last. A
criminal in that position likes to see familiar faces in the throng that
hems him in. It gives him courage, steadies his nerves.

He cannot exhibit any signs of cowardice before those who appreciate
true merit and bravery, according to his way of thinking, and pride
comes to his aid. A man will meet death like a Roman under such
circumstances, who would be weak as a woman if he were despatched in
private.

The criminal to be executed on that occasion was a thief, already
notorious in Paris for his daring and dexterity, though he had only been
there a few months. But, unfortunately for himself--though very much the
reverse for the well-to-do citizens of the capital in general--he
had not confined himself to his legitimate business. In his last
enterprise--breaking into a private dwelling to gain possession of a
large sum of money that was to be kept there for a single night--he had
killed the master of the house, who was aroused by his entrance; and,
not content to stop there, had also brutally murdered his wife, as she
lay quietly sleeping in her bed--like a tiger, that has tasted blood
and is wild for more. So atrocious a crime had roused the indignation of
even his own unscrupulous, hardened companions, and it was not long ere
his hiding-place was mysteriously revealed, and he was arrested, tried,
and condemned to death. Now he was to pay the penalty of his guilt.

As the fatal hour approached, a carriage drove down along the quay,
turned into the Place de Greve, and attempted to cross it; but, becoming
immediately entangled in the crowd, could make little or no progress,
despite the utmost exertions of the majestic coachman and attendant
lackeys to induce the people to make way for it, and let it pass.

But for the grand coat of arms and ducal coronet emblazoned on the
panels, which inspired a certain awe as well as respect in the motley
throng of pedestrians, the equipage would undoubtedly have been roughly
dealt with-but as it was, they contented themselves with resolutely and
obstinately barring its passage, after it had reached the middle of the
square. The indignant coachman did not dare to urge his spirited
horses forward at all hazards, ruthlessly trampling down the unlucky
individuals who happened to be directly in his way, as he would
certainly have done in any ordinary crowd, for the canaille, that filled
the Place de Greve to overflowi