n again Robespierre sprang to his
feet. The Incorruptible's complexion looked sicklier than its wont, for
mortification had turned him green outright. A gust of passion swept
through his soul, such as would have made another man call for the death
of this defiant youth who had withstood his entreaties. But such was
Robespierre's wonderful command of self, such was his power of making
his inclinations subservient to the ends he had in view that he had but
risen to voice a fresh appeal.

He demanded that the sentence should be passed with the reservation that
the accused should have twenty-four hours for reflection. Should he
at the end of that time be disposed to tell them where the ci-devant
Vicomte d'Ombreval was to be found, let them reconsider his case. On the
other hand, should he still continue obdurate by the noon of to-morrow,
then let the sentence be consummated.

There was some demur, but Robespierre swept it fiercely aside with
patriotic arguments. La Boulaye was a stout servant of the Nation, whom
it must profit France to let live that he might serve her; Ombreval
was a base aristocrat, whose death all true Republicans should aim at
encompassing. And so he won the day in the end, and when the sentence
of death was passed, it was passed with the reservation that should the
prisoner, upon reflection, be inclined to show himself more loyal to
France and the interests of the Republic by telling them how Ornbreval
might be recaptured, he would find them still inclined to mercy and
forgiveness. Allowing his eyes to stray round the Court at that moment,
La Boulaye started at sight of an unexpected face. It was Mademoiselle
de Bellecour, deathly pale and with the strained, piteous look that
haunts the eyes of the mad. He shivered at the thought of the peril
to herself in coming into that assembly; then, recovering himself, he
turned to his judges.

"Citizen-President, Citizens all, I thank you; but I should be
unappreciative of your kindness did I permit you to entertain false
hopes. My purpose is unalterable."

"Take him away," the President commanded impatiently, and as they
removed him Mademoiselle crept from the Court, weeping softly in her
poignant grief, and realising that not so much for the President's ear
as for her own had La Boulaye uttered those words. They were meant to
fortify her and to give her courage with the assurance that Ombreval
would not be betrayed. To give her courage! Her lip was twisted