nd dead, some three days, when Philippe, after
his long half-year of durance at Marseilles, arrives in Paris. It is, as
we calculate, the third of November 1793.

On which same day, two notable Female Prisoners are also put in ward
there: Dame Dubarry and Josephine Beauharnais! Dame whilom Countess
Dubarry, Unfortunate-female, had returned from London; they snatched
her, not only as Ex-harlot of a whilom Majesty, and therefore suspect;
but as having 'furnished the Emigrants with money.' Contemporaneously
with whom, there comes the wife of Beauharnais, soon to be the widow:
she that is Josephine Tascher Beauharnais; that shall be Josephine
Empress Buonaparte, for a black Divineress of the Tropics prophesied
long since that she should be a Queen and more. Likewise, in the same
hours, poor Adam Lux, nigh turned in the head, who, according to Foster,
'has taken no food these three weeks,' marches to the Guillotine for his
Pamphlet on Charlotte Corday: he 'sprang to the scaffold;' said he
'died for her with great joy.' Amid such fellow-travellers does Philippe
arrive. For, be the month named Brumaire year 2 of Liberty, or November
year 1793 of Slavery, the Guillotine goes always, Guillotine va
toujours.

Enough, Philippe's indictment is soon drawn, his jury soon convinced. He
finds himself made guilty of Royalism, Conspiracy and much else; nay,
it is a guilt in him that he voted Louis's Death, though he answers, "I
voted in my soul and conscience." The doom he finds is death forthwith;
this present sixth dim day of November is the last day that Philippe
is to see. Philippe, says Montgaillard, thereupon called for breakfast:
sufficiency of 'oysters, two cutlets, best part of an excellent bottle
of claret;' and consumed the same with apparent relish. A Revolutionary
Judge, or some official Convention Emissary, then arrived, to signify
that he might still do the State some service by revealing the truth
about a plot or two. Philippe answered that, on him, in the pass things
had come to, the State had, he thought, small claim; that nevertheless,
in the interest of Liberty, he, having still some leisure on his hands,
was willing, were a reasonable question asked him, to give reasonable
answer. And so, says Montgaillard, he lent his elbow on the
mantel-piece, and conversed in an under-tone, with great seeming
composure; till the leisure was done, or the Emissary went his ways.

At the door of the Conciergerie, Philippe's attitud