moment
the idea flashed across him that he might be recognized, and that his
name uttered by a single mouth might prevent his carrying out his
intention. He fell on his knees, and laid his head himself upon the
block.

"Adieu!" he murmured, "adieu, my friends, my tender, dear Helene; thy
nuptial kiss has cost me my life, indeed, but not mine honor. Alas!
those fifteen minutes wasted in thine arms will have struck down five
heads. Adieu! Helene, adieu!"

The sword of the executioner gleamed.

"--And you, my friends, pardon me," added the young man.

The steel fell; the head rolled one way, and the body fell the other.

Then Waters raised the head and showed it to the people.

But then a mighty murmur rose from the crowd; no one had recognized
Pontcalec.

The executioner mistook the meaning of this murmur; he placed Gaston's
head at the empty corner, and with his foot pushing the body into the
tumbril where those of his three companions awaited it, he leaned upon
his sword, and cried aloud:

"Justice is done."

"And I, then," cried a voice of thunder, "am I to be forgotten?"

And Pontcalec, in his turn, leaped upon the scaffold.

"You!" cried Waters, recoiling as if he had seen a ghost. "You! who are
you?"

"I," said Pontcalec; "come, I am ready."

"But," said the executioner trembling, and looking one after the other
at the four corners of the scaffold--"but there are four heads already."

"I am the Baron de Pontcalec, do you hear; I am to die the last--and
here I am."

"Count," said Waters, as pale as the baron, pointing with his sword to
the four corners.

"Four heads!" exclaimed Pontcalec; "impossible." At this moment he
recognized in one of the heads the pale and noble face of Gaston, which
seemed to smile upon him even in death.

And he in his turn started back in terror.

"Oh, kill me then quickly!" he cried, groaning with impatience; "would
you make me die a thousand times?"

During this interval, one of the commissioners had mounted the ladder,
called by the chief executioner. He cast a glance upon Pontcalec.

"It is indeed the Baron de Pontcalec," said the commissioner; "perform
your office."

"But," cried the executioner, "there are four heads there already."

"Well, then, his will make five; better too many than too few."

And the commissioner descended the steps, signing to the drums to beat.

Waters reeled upon the boards of his scaffold. The tumult increased. The
horror was