be itself final, or need ratifying by Appeal to the People? If guilty,
what Punishment? This is the form agreed to, after uproar and 'several
hours of tumultuous indecision:' these are the Three successive
Questions, whereon the Convention shall now pronounce. Paris floods
round their Hall; multitudinous, many sounding. Europe and all Nations
listen for their answer. Deputy after Deputy shall answer to his name:
Guilty or Not guilty?

As to the Guilt, there is, as above hinted, no doubt in the mind of
Patriot man. Overwhelming majority pronounces Guilt; the unanimous
Convention votes for Guilt, only some feeble twenty-eight voting not
Innocence, but refusing to vote at all. Neither does the Second Question
prove doubtful, whatever the Girondins might calculate. Would not Appeal
to the People be another name for civil war? Majority of two to one
answers that there shall be no Appeal: this also is settled. Loud
Patriotism, now at ten o'clock, may hush itself for the night; and
retire to its bed not without hope. Tuesday has gone well. On the morrow
comes, What Punishment? On the morrow is the tug of war.

Consider therefore if, on this Wednesday morning, there is an affluence
of Patriotism; if Paris stands a-tiptoe, and all Deputies are at their
post! Seven Hundred and Forty-nine honourable Deputies; only some twenty
absent on mission, Duchatel and some seven others absent by sickness.
Meanwhile expectant Patriotism and Paris standing a-tiptoe, have need of
patience. For this Wednesday again passes in debate and effervescence;
Girondins proposing that a 'majority of three-fourths' shall be
required; Patriots fiercely resisting them. Danton, who has just got
back from mission in the Netherlands, does obtain 'order of the day'
on this Girondin proposal; nay he obtains further that we decide sans
desemparer, in Permanent-session, till we have done.

And so, finally, at eight in the evening this Third stupendous Voting,
by roll-call or appel nominal, does begin. What Punishment? Girondins
undecided, Patriots decided, men afraid of Royalty, men afraid of
Anarchy, must answer here and now. Infinite Patriotism, dusky in the
lamp-light, floods all corridors, crowds all galleries, sternly waiting
to hear. Shrill-sounding Ushers summon you by Name and Department; you
must rise to the Tribune and say.

Eye-witnesses have represented this scene of the Third Voting, and of
the votings that grew out of it; a scene protracted, like