pale and stern form of the usher.

The solemn apparition changed, on the instant, into anxious palpitations
their pleasant conversation.

The usher advanced slowly, while the jailer remained at the door, and
the barrels of muskets were seen shining in the gloom of the corridor.

"What is your will, sir?" asked Pontcalec, "and what signifies this
deadly paraphernalia?"

"Gentlemen," said the usher, "I bear the sentence of the tribunal. On
your knees and listen."

"How?" said Montlouis, "it is only sentences of death that must be heard
kneeling."

"On your knees, gentlemen," replied the usher.

"Let the guilty and the base kneel," said Du Couedic; "we are gentlemen,
and innocent. We will hear our sentences standing."

"As you will, gentlemen; but uncover yourselves, for I speak in the
king's name."

Talhouet, who alone had his hat on, removed it. The four gentlemen stood
erect and bare-headed, leaning on each other, with pale faces and a
smile upon their lips.

The usher read the sentence through, uninterrupted by a murmur, or by a
single gesture of surprise.

When he had finished--

"Why was I told," asked Pontcalec, "to declare the designs of Spain
against France, and that I should be liberated? Spain was an enemy's
country. I declared what I believed I knew of her projects; and, lo! I
am condemned. Why is this? Is the commission, then, composed of cowards
who spread snares for the accused?"

The usher made no answer.

"But," added Montlouis, "the regent spared all Paris, implicated in the
conspiracy of Cellamare; not a drop of blood was shed. Yet those who
wished to carry off the regent, perhaps to kill him, were at least as
guilty as men against whom no serious accusations even could be made.
Are we then chosen to pay for the indulgence shown to the capital?"

The usher made no reply.

"You forget one thing, Montlouis," said Du Couedic, "the old family
hatred against Bretagne; and the regent, to make people believe that he
belongs to the family, wishes to prove that he hates us. It is not we,
personally, who are struck at; it is a province, which for three hundred
years has claimed in vain its privileges and its rights, and which they
wish to find guilty in order to have done with it forever."

The usher preserved a religious silence.

"Enough," said Talhouet, "we are condemned. 'Tis well. Now, have we, or
have we not, the right of appeal?"

"No, gentlemen," said the usher.

"Then you can r