th these vile wretches!"

"These peasants are not vile wretches, but misguided men, Monsieur.
Moreover, you know--yes, you know as well as I do myself--that I have
had no hand in this conspiracy."

"You were arrested in the ranks of the conspirators with weapons in your
hands!"

"I was unarmed, Monsieur, as you are well aware; and if I was among
the peasantry, it was only because I hoped to induce them to relinquish
their senseless enterprise."

"You lie!"

The baron paled beneath the insult, but he made no reply.

There was, however, one man in the assemblage who could no longer endure
this horrible and abominable injustice, and this man was Abbe Midon,
who, only a moment before, had advised Maurice to be calm.

He brusquely quitted his place, and advanced to the foot of the
platform.

"The Baron d'Escorval speaks the truth," he cried, in a ringing voice;
"the three hundred prisoners in the citadel will swear to it; these
prisoners here would say the same if they stood upon the guillotine; and
I, who accompanied him, who walked beside him, I, a priest, swear before
the God who will judge all men, Monsieur de Sairmeuse, I swear that all
which it was in human power to do to arrest this movement we have done!"

The duke listened with an ironical smile.

"They did not deceive me, then, when they told me that this army of
rebels had a chaplain! Ah! Monsieur, you should sink to the earth with
shame. You, a priest, mingle with such scoundrels as these--with these
enemies of our good King and of our holy religion! Do not deny this!
Your haggard features, your swollen eyes, your disordered attire soiled
with dust and mud betray your guilt. Must I, a soldier, remind you of
what is due your sacred calling? Hold your peace, Monsieur, and depart!"

The counsel for the prisoner sprang up.

"We demand," they cried, "that this witness be heard. He must be heard!
Military commissions are not above the laws that regulate ordinary
tribunals."

"If I do not speak the truth," resumed the abbe, "I am a perjured
witness, worse yet, an accomplice. It is your duty, in that case, to
have me arrested."

The duke's face expressed a hypocritical compassion.

"No, Monsieur le Cure," said he, "I shall not arrest you. I would avert
the scandal which you are trying to cause. We will show your priestly
garb the respect the wearer does not deserve. Again, and for the last
time, retire, or I shall be obliged to employ force."

What w