Dangeau had come in quietly enough, and stood first at the edge of the crowd, by the steps which led to the raised platform on which accused and judges were placed. He had shot his bolt, had made a vain effort to see Danton, and was now come here to do he knew not what. Mademoiselle looking straight before her, with eyes that now saw nothing, was not aware of his presence, as in a strained, far-away voice she answered the questions Fouquier Tinville put to her. "Your name?" "Aline Marie de Rochambeau." "You are a cousin of the late ci-devant and conspirator Montargis?" "Yes." A sort of howl went up from the back of the room, where a knot of filthy men stood gesticulating. "And you were betrothed to that other traitor Sélincourt?" "Yes." The answers dropped almost indifferently from the scarcely parted lips, but she shrank and swayed a little, as a second shout followed her reply, and she caught curses, cries for her death, and a woman’s scream of, "Down with Sélincourt’s mistress! Give her to us! Throw her down!" Tinville waved for silence and gradually the noise lessened, the audience settling down with the reflection that perhaps it would be a pity to cut the play short in its first act. "You have conspired against the Republic?" "No." "But I say yes," said Tinville loudly. "Citizen Hébert discovered you under an assumed name. Why did you take a name that was not your own if you had no intention of plotting? Are honest citizens ashamed of their names?" Dangeau swung himself on to the platform and came forward. "Citizen President," he said quietly. "I claim to represent the accused, who has, I see, no counsel." Herman looked up stupidly, a vague smile on his broad, blond face. "We have done away with counsel for the defence," he observed, with a large, explanatory wave of the hand. "It took too much time. The Revolutionary Tribunal now has increased powers, and requires only to hear and to be convinced of the prisoners’ crimes. We have simplified the forms since you went south, Citizen." Fouquier Tinville glanced at him with venomous intention. "And the Citizen delays us," he said politely. Aline had let one only sign of feeling escape her,—a soft, quick gasp as Dangeau came within the contracting circle of her consciousness,—but the sound reached him and came sweetly to his ears. He turned again to Herman. "But you still hear witnesses, or whence the conviction?" he said in a carefully controlled voice. "It is Dangeau, our Dangeau!" shouted a woman near the front. "Let him speak if he wants to: what does he know of the girl?" He recognised little Louison, hanging to her big husband’s arm, and sent her a smiling nod of thanks.