It chanced that three lawyers, retained by the friends of several of the prisoners, were in the hall.

They were the three men that Maurice, on his entrance, had noticed conversing near the door of the chapel.

The duke was informed of this fact. He turned to them, and motioned them to approach; then, pointing to Chanlouineau:

"Will you undertake this culprit's defence?" he demanded.

For a moment the lawyers made no response. This monstrous _seance_ had aroused a storm of indignation and disgust within their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and they looked questioningly at each other.

"We are all disposed to undertake the prisoner's defence," at last replied the eldest of the three; "but we see him for the first time; we are ignorant of his grounds of defence. We must ask a delay; it is indispensable, in order to confer with him."

"The court can grant you no delay," interrupted M. de Sairmeuse; "will you accept the defence, yes or no?"

The advocate hesitated, not that he was afraid, for he was a brave man: but he was endeavoring to find some argument strong enough to trouble the conscience of these judges.

"I will speak in his behalf," said the advocate, at last, "but not without first protesting with all my strength against these unheard-of modes of procedure."

"Oh! spare us your homilies, and be brief."

After Chanlouineau's examination, it was difficult to improvise there, on the spur of the moment, a plea in his behalf. Still, his courageous advocate, in his indignation, presented a score of arguments which would have made any other tribunal reflect.

But all the while he was speaking the Duc de Sairmeuse fidgeted in his gilded arm-chair with every sign of angry impatience.

"The plea was very long," he remarked, when the lawyer had concluded, "terribly long. We shall never get through with this business if each prisoner takes up as much time!"

He turned to his colleagues as if to consult them, but suddenly changing his mind he proposed to the prosecuting counsel that he should unite all the cases, try all the culprits in a body, with the exception of the elder d'Escorval.

"This will shorten our task, for, in case we adopt this course, there will be but two judgments to be p.r.o.nounced," he said. "This will not, of course, prevent each individual from defending himself."

The lawyers protested against this. A judgment in a lump, like that suggested by the duke, would destroy all hope of saving a single one of these unfortunate men from the guillotine.

"How can we defend them," the lawyers pleaded, "when we know nothing of the situation of each of the prisoners? we do not even know their names.

We shall be obliged to designate them by the cut of their coats and by the color of their hair."

They implored the tribunal to grant them a week for preparation, four days, even twenty-four hours. Futile efforts! The president's proposition was adopted.

Consequently, each prisoner was called to the desk according to the place which he occupied upon the benches. Each man gave his name, his age, his abode, and his profession, and received an order to return to his place.

Six or seven prisoners were actually granted time to say that they were absolutely ignorant of the conspiracy, and that they had been arrested while conversing quietly upon the public highway. They begged to be allowed to furnish proof of the truth of their a.s.sertions; they invoked the testimony of the soldiers who had arrested them.

M. d'Escorval, whose case had been separated from the others, was not summoned to the desk. He would be interrogated last.

"Now the counsel for the defence will be heard," said the duke; "but make haste; lose no time! It is already twelve o'clock."

Then began a shameful, revolting, and unheard-of scene. The duke interrupted the lawyers every other moment, bidding them be silent, questioning them, or jeering at them.

"It seems incredible," said he, "that anyone can think of defending such wretches!"

Or again:

"Silence! You should blush with shame for having const.i.tuted yourself the defender of such rascals!"

But the lawyers persevered even while they realized the utter uselessness of their efforts. But what could they do under such circ.u.mstances? The defence of these twenty-nine prisoners lasted only one hour and a half.

Before the last word was fairly uttered, the Duc de Sairmeuse gave a sigh of relief, and in a tone which betrayed his delight, said:

"Prisoner Escorval, stand up."

Thus called upon, the baron rose, calm and dignified. Terrible as his sufferings must have been, there was no trace of it upon his n.o.ble face.

He had even repressed the smile of disdain which the duke's paltry affection in not giving him the t.i.tle which belonged to him, brought to his lips.

But Chanlouineau sprang up at the same time, trembling with indignation, his face all aglow with anger.

"Remain seated," ordered the duke, "or you shall be removed from the court-room."

Chanlouineau, nevertheless, declared that he would speak; that he had some remarks to add to the plea made by the defending counsel.

Upon a sign from the duke, two gendarmes approached and placed their hands upon his shoulders. He allowed them to force him back into his seat though he could easily have crushed them with one pressure of his brawny arm.

An observer would have supposed that he was furious; secretly, he was delighted. The aim he had had in view was now attained. In the glance he cast upon the abbe, the latter could read:

"Whatever happens, watch over Maurice; restrain him. Do not allow him to defeat my plans by any outbreak."

This caution was not unnecessary. Maurice was terribly agitated; he could not see, he felt that he was suffocating, that he was losing his reason.

"Where is the self-control you promised me?" murmured the priest.

But no one observed the young man's condition. The attention was rapt, breathless. So profound was the silence that the measured tread of the sentinels without could be distinctly heard.

Each person present felt that the decisive moment for which the tribunal had reserved all its attention and efforts had come.

To convict and condemn the poor peasants, of whom no one would think twice, was a mere trifle. But to bring low an ill.u.s.trious man who had been the counsellor and faithful friend of the Emperor! What glory, and what an opportunity for the ambitious!

The instinct of the audience spoke the truth. If the tribunal had acted informally in the case of the obscure conspirators, it had carefully prepared its suit against the baron.

Thanks to the activity of the Marquis de Courtornieu, the prosecution had found seven charges against the baron, the least grave of which was punishable by death.

"Which of you," demanded M. de Sairmeuse, "will consent to defend this great culprit?"

"I!" exclaimed three advocates, in a breath.

"Take care," said the duke, with a malicious smile; "the task is not light."

"Not light!" It would have been better to say dangerous. It would have been better to say that the defender risked his career, his peace, and his liberty; very probably, his life.

"Our profession has its exigencies," n.o.bly replied the oldest of the advocates.