After the trial all the prisoners were locked for the night in the Conciergerie, sentence not being pronounced till the following day. The public whipping and branding of Madame de la Motte in the Cour du Justice,--still the _cour_ where throngs pass and repass to the various court-rooms of the Palais de Justice,--as given by Dumas, is most realistically told, if briefly. It runs thus: "'Who is this man?' cried Jeanne, in a fright. "'The executioner, M. de Paris,' replied the registrar. "The two men then took hold of her to lead her out. They took her thus into the court called Cour de Justice, where was a scaffold, and which was crowded with spectators. On a platform, raised about eight feet, was a post garnished with iron rings, and with a ladder to mount to it. This place was surrounded with soldiers.... "Numbers of the partisans of M. de Rohan had assembled to hoot her, and cries of '_A bas la Motte_, the forger!' were heard on every side, and those who tried to express pity for her were soon silenced. Then she cried in a loud voice, 'Do you know who I am? I am the blood of your kings. They strike in me, not a criminal, but a rival; not only a rival, but an accomplice. Yes,' repeated she, as the people kept silence to listen, 'an accomplice. They punish one who knows the secrets of--' "'Take care,' interrupted the executioner. "She turned and saw the executioner with the whip in his hand. At this sight she forgot her desire to captivate the multitude, and even her hatred, and, sinking on her knees, she said, 'Have pity!' and seized his hand; but he raised the other, and let the whip fall lightly on her shoulders. She jumped up, and was about to try and throw herself off the scaffold, when she saw the other man, who was drawing from a fire a hot iron. At this sight she uttered a perfect howl, which was echoed by the people. "'Help! help!' she cried, trying to shake off the cord with which they were tying her hands. The executioner at last forced her on her knees, and tore open her dress; but she cried, with a voice which was heard through all the tumult, 'Cowardly Frenchmen! you do not defend me, but let me be tortured; oh! it is my own fault. If I had said all I knew of the queen I should have been--' "She could say no more, for she was gagged by the attendants: then two men held her, while the executioner performed his office. At the touch of the iron she fainted, and was carried back insensible to the Conciergerie." CHAPTER XII. L'UNIVERSITÉ QUARTIER L'Université is the _quartier_ which foregathered its components, more or less unconsciously, around the Sorbonne. To-day the name still means what it always did; the Ecole de Médicine, the Ecole de Droit, the Beaux Arts, the Observatoire, and the student ateliers of the Latin Quarter, all go to make it something quite foreign to any other section of Paris.