ed the duke, looking
angrily over the audience.

No one uttered a word.

"At the least noise the hall shall be cleared," added M. de Sairmeuse.
"And you, prisoner, what have you to say in self-justification, after
this crushing accusation by Mademoiselle de Courtornieu?"

"Nothing," murmured the baron.

"So you confess your guilt?"

Once outside, the abbe confided Maurice to the care of three officers,
who promised to go with him, to carry him by main force, if need be, to
the hotel, and keep him there.

Relieved on this score, the priest re-entered the hall just in time to
see the baron seat himself without making any response, thus indicating
that he had relinquished all intention of defending his life.

Really, what could he say? How could he defend himself without betraying
his son?

Until now there had not been one person who did not believe in the
baron's entire innocence. Could it be that he was guilty? His silence
must be accepted as a confession of guilt; at least, some present
believed so.

Baron d'Escorval appeared to be guilty. Was that not a sufficiently
great victory for the Duc de Sairmeuse?

He turned to the lawyers, and with an air of weariness and disdain he
said:

"Now speak, since it is absolutely necessary; but no long phrases! We
should have finished here an hour ago."

The oldest lawyer rose, trembling with indignation, ready to dare
anything for the sake of giving free utterance to his thought, but the
baron checked him.

"Do not try to defend me," he said, calmly; "it would be labor wasted.
I have only a word to say to my judges. Let them remember what the noble
and generous Marshal Moncey wrote to the King: 'The scaffold does not
make friends.'"

This recollection was not of a nature to soften the hearts of the
judges. The marshal, for that saying, had been deprived of his office,
and condemned to three months' imprisonment.

As the advocates made no further attempt to argue the case, the
commission retired to deliberate. This gave M. d'Escorval an opportunity
to speak with his defenders. He shook them warmly by the hand, and
thanked them for their devotion and for their courage.

The good man wept.

Then the baron, turning to the oldest among them, quickly and in a low
voice said:

"I have a last favor to ask of you. When the sentence of death shall
have been pronounced upon me, go at once to my son. You will say to him
that his dying father commands him to live; he w