e other: "the right of dooming me is thine
always. The voice of a man speaking for his honour and his life may well
drown the jingling of thy bell!" Thus Danton, higher and higher; till
the lion voice of him 'dies away in his throat:' speech will not utter
what is in that man. The Galleries murmur ominously; the first day's
Session is over.

O Tinville, President Herman, what will ye do? They have two days more
of it, by strictest Revolutionary Law. The Galleries already murmur.
If this Danton were to burst your mesh-work!--Very curious indeed to
consider. It turns on a hair: and what a Hoitytoity were there, Justice
and Culprit changing places; and the whole History of France running
changed! For in France there is this Danton only that could still try
to govern France. He only, the wild amorphous Titan;--and perhaps that
other olive-complexioned individual, the Artillery Officer at Toulon,
whom we left pushing his fortune in the South?

On the evening of the second day, matters looking not better but worse
and worse, Fouquier and Herman, distraction in their aspect, rush over
to Salut Public. What is to be done? Salut Public rapidly concocts a new
Decree; whereby if men 'insult Justice,' they may be 'thrown out of the
Debates.' For indeed, withal, is there not 'a Plot in the Luxembourg
Prison?' Ci-devant General Dillon, and others of the Suspect, plotting
with Camille's Wife to distribute assignats; to force the Prisons,
overset the Republic? Citizen Laflotte, himself Suspect but desiring
enfranchisement, has reported said Plot for us:--a report that may bear
fruit! Enough, on the morrow morning, an obedient Convention passes this
Decree. Salut rushes off with it to the aid of Tinville, reduced now
almost to extremities. And so, Hors des Debats, Out of the Debates,
ye insolents! Policemen do your duty! In such manner, with a deadlift
effort, Salut, Tinville Herman, Leroi Dix-Aout, and all stanch jurymen
setting heart and shoulder to it, the Jury becomes 'sufficiently
instructed;' Sentence is passed, is sent by an Official, and torn and
trampled on: Death this day. It is the 5th of April, 1794. Camille's
poor Wife may cease hovering about this Prison. Nay let her kiss her
poor children; and prepare to enter it, and to follow!--

Danton carried a high look in the Death-cart. Not so Camille: it is but
one week, and all is so topsy-turvied; angel Wife left weeping; love,
riches, Revolutionary fame, left all at the Priso