to die; but his young Daughter clasps him in her
arms, with an inspiration of eloquence, with a love which is stronger
than very death; the heart of the killers themselves is touched by it;
the old man is spared. Yet he was guilty, if plotting for his King is
guilt: in ten days more, a Court of Law condemned him, and he had to die
elsewhere; bequeathing his Daughter a lock of his old grey hair. Or
note old M. de Sombreuil, who also had a Daughter:--My Father is not an
Aristocrat; O good gentlemen, I will swear it, and testify it, and in
all ways prove it; we are not; we hate Aristocrats! "Wilt thou drink
Aristocrats' blood?" The man lifts blood (if universal Rumour can be
credited (Dulaure: Esquisses Historiques des principaux evenemens de
la Revolution, ii. 206 (cited in Montgaillard, iii. 205.); the poor
maiden does drink. "This Sombreuil is innocent then!" Yes indeed,--and
now note, most of all, how the bloody pikes, at this news, do rattle to
the ground; and the tiger-yells become bursts of jubilee over a brother
saved; and the old man and his daughter are clasped to bloody bosoms,
with hot tears, and borne home in triumph of Vive la Nation, the killers
refusing even money! Does it seem strange, this temper of theirs?
It seems very certain, well proved by Royalist testimony in other
instances; (Bertrand-Moleville, Mem. Particuliers, ii.213, &c. &c.) and
very significant.

Chapter 3.1.V.

A Trilogy.

As all Delineation, in these ages, were it never so Epic, 'speaking
itself and not singing itself,' must either found on Belief and provable
Fact, or have no foundation at all (nor except as floating cobweb any
existence at all),--the Reader will perhaps prefer to take a glance with
the very eyes of eye-witnesses; and see, in that way, for himself, how
it was. Brave Jourgniac, innocent Abbe Sicard, judicious Advocate Maton,
these, greatly compressing themselves, shall speak, each an instant.
Jourgniac's Agony of Thirty-eight hours went through 'above a hundred
editions,' though intrinsically a poor work. Some portion of it may here
go through above the hundred-and-first, for want of a better.

'Towards seven o'clock' (Sunday night, at the Abbaye; for Jourgniac
goes by dates): 'We saw two men enter, their hands bloody and armed with
sabres; a turnkey, with a torch, lighted them; he pointed to the bed of
the unfortunate Swiss, Reding. Reding spoke with a dying voice. One of
them paused; but the other cried Allons