ve nothing to confess."

He made no resistance when his knees and legs were bound, and endured the
torture courageously. Only, in a moment of agony, he exclaimed:

"Accursed money! has thou reduced me to this?"

Thinking that pain would overcome his resolution, the presiding
magistrate bent towards him, and said:

"Unhappy man! confess thy crime, since death is near at hand."

He recovered his firmness, and, looking at the magistrate, replied:

"I know it, monseigneur; I have perhaps not three hours to live."

Thinking that his apparently feeble frame could not endure the last
wedges, the executioner was ordered to stop. He was unbound and laid on
a mattress, and a glass of wine was brought, of which he only drank a few
drops; after this, he made his confession to the priest. For, dinner,
they brought him soup and stew, which he ate eagerly, and inquiring of
the gaoler if he could have something more, an entree was brought in
addition. One might have thought that this final repast heralded, not
death but deliverance. At length three o'clock struck the hour appointed
for leaving the prison.

According to the report of credible persons whom we have consulted, Paris
on this occasion presented a remarkable appearance, which those who saw
it were never able to forget. The great anthill was troubled to its very
lowest depth. Whether by accident or design, the same day had been fixed
for a function which ought to have proved a considerable counter
attraction. A great festival in honour of a German prince was given on
the Plaine de Grenelle, at which all the court was present; and probably
more than one great lady regretted missing the emotions of the Place de
Greve, abandoned to the rabble and the bourgeoisie. The rest of the city
was deserted, the streets silent, the houses closed. A stranger
transported suddenly into such a solitude might have reasonably thought
that during the night the town had been smitten by the Angel of Death,
and that only a labyrinth of vacant buildings remained, testifying to the
life and turmoil of the preceding day. A dark and dense atmosphere hung
over the abandoned town; lightning furrowed the heavy motionless clouds;
in the distance the occasional rumble of thunder was heard, answered by
the cannon of the royal fete. The crowd was divided between the powers
of heaven and earth: the terrible majesty of the Eternal on one side, on
the other the frivolous pomp of royalty--eternal