me Pierre, finding Guillaume still more feverish and grieved, had
once again taken hold of his hand. Neither of them spoke, so great was
the distress that they experienced for many reasons which they themselves
could not have precisely defined. It seemed to them, however, that all
human misery--inclusive of their own, the affections, the hopes, the
griefs which brought them suffering--was sobbing and quivering in that
buzzing hall. Twilight had gradually fallen there, but as the end was now
so near it had doubtless been thought unnecessary to light the
chandeliers. And thus large vague shadows, dimming and shrouding the
serried throng, now hovered about in the last gleams of the day. The
ladies in light gowns yonder, behind the bench, looked like pale phantoms
with all-devouring eyes, whilst the numerous groups of black-robed
advocates formed large sombre patches which gradually spread everywhere.
The greyish painting of the Christ had already vanished, and on the walls
one only saw the glaring white bust of the Republic, which resembled some
frigid death's head starting forth from the darkness.

"Ah!" Massot once more exclaimed, "I knew that it wouldn't take long!"

Indeed, the jurors were returning after less than a quarter of an hour's
absence. Then the judges likewise came back and took their seats.
Increased emotion stirred the throng, a great gust seemed to sweep
through the court, a gust of anxiety, which made every head sway. Some
people had risen to their feet, and others gave vent to involuntary
exclamations. The foreman of the jury, a gentleman with a broad red face,
had to wait a moment before speaking. At last in a sharp but somewhat
sputtering voice he declared: "On my honour and my conscience, before God
and before man, the verdict of the jury is: on the question of Murder,
yes, by a majority of votes."*

* English readers may be reminded that in France the verdict of
a majority of the jury suffices for conviction or acquittal.
If the jury is evenly divided the prisoner is acquitted.--Trans.

The night had almost completely fallen when Salvat was once more brought
in. In front of the jurors, who faded away in the gloom, he stood forth,
erect, with a last ray from the windows lighting up his face. The judges
themselves almost disappeared from view, their red robes seemed to have
turned black. And how phantom-like looked the prisoner's emaciated face
as he stood there listening, with dreamy eyes