xecuted."

That is to say, the Duc de Richelieu, and the council of ministers,
headed by M. Decazes, the minister of police, had decided that the
petitions for clemency must be refused.

This despatch was a terrible blow to the Duc de Sairmeuse and M. de
Courtornieu. They knew, better than anyone else, how little these poor
men, whose lives they had tried, too late, to save, deserved death. They
knew it would soon be publicly proven that two of the six men had taken
no part whatever in the conspiracy.

What was to be done?

Martial desired his father to resign his authority; but the duke had not
courage to do it.

M. de Courtornieu encouraged him. He admitted that all this was very
unfortunate, but declared, since the wine had been drawn, that it was
necessary to drink it, and that one could not draw back now without
causing a terrible scandal.

The next day the dismal rolling of drums was again heard, and the six
doomed men, two of whom were known to be innocent, were led outside
the walls of the citadel and shot, on the same spot where, only a week
before, fourteen of their comrades had fallen.

And the prime mover in the conspiracy had not yet been tried.

Confined in the cell next to that which Chanlouineau had occupied,
Lacheneur had fallen into a state of gloomy despondency, which lasted
during his whole term of imprisonment. He was terribly broken, both in
body and in mind.

Once only did the blood mount to his pallid cheek, and that was on the
morning when the Duc de Sairmeuse entered the cell to interrogate him.

"It was you who drove me to do what I did," he said. "God sees us, and
judges us!"

Unhappy man! his faults had been great; his chastisement was terrible.

He had sacrificed his children on the altar of his wounded pride; he
had not even the consolation of pressing them to his heart and of asking
their forgiveness before he died.

Alone in his cell he could not distract his mind from thoughts of his
son and of his daughter; but such was the terrible situation in which he
had placed himself that he dared not ask what had become of them.

Through a compassionate keeper, he learned that nothing had been heard
of Jean, and that it was supposed Marie-Anne had gone to some foreign
country with the d'Escorval family.

When summoned before the court for trial, Lacheneur was calm and
dignified in manner. He attempted no defence, but responded with perfect
frankness. He took all the blame up