he headsman, the fatal blow would now be falling! Neither Danton
nor his men, of course, know that. Theirs to struggle on, to confront
and conquer fortune, never to despair! Within those iron souls is no
such thought as "Defeat."

Hurrah!

One foremost rider has managed to squeeze through the mighty gates
before they clang. Danton and the rest of his men face a small army on
the closed barrier's City side.

The superb horses would charge against a stone wall if bade to! They
charge against the living wall of foot soldiers; kicking, pounding,
trampling in the narrow space, while the riders strike.

Some footmen perish under the hoofs. Others save themselves by
leaping, scrambling out over the side parapets. The attack becomes a
rout. Hip-hip-hurrah! The lone rider on the guillotine side has
succeeded in unloosing the bar. The gates fly open. Danton's cavalry
dash madly down the straight and unobstructed road that leads to the
Place de la Execution, still a few furlongs distant!

Can they even yet save her? For now it would appear as if the
supremely tragical moment might anticipate them--by seconds!

During the final furlongs--the executioner now in readiness--Henriette
looks up with gaping mouth at the awful knife edge. A terrible cry
escapes her. Wracked with agony, she gazes about at the sea of hostile
faces--not one stray iota of sympathy in that Dark Hour. Missing is de
Vaudrey, missing the loved blind sister! As the down-dropping gesture
of Death is again begun by the grim master of ceremonial, Henriette
with a low cry of "Louise!" shuts eyes and drops head to receive the
stroke!

But the clatter of myriad hoofbeats assails the Master's ears; the
hoarse cries of Danton's riders, and the astonished roars of the
populace. His hand falters. He turns to look at the tumult. The
executioner takes his hand off the rope.

The cavalrymen are dashing down the roadway, from which quick
clearance has been made by the sansculotte guards and the loaferish
spectators. At their head gallops Danton, the Thunderer of old,
thundering at the officials, waving in his free hand a State paper!

In front of the death machine he halts and dismounts--then taking the
steps in two bounds, puts the reprieve of Henriette and Maurice in the
hands of the master of ceremonial!

The Savior of France--the Organizer of Victory--brings such a show of
power at his back and compels such respect that none dare question
him. He strides to the