The _générale_ was beaten, the tocsin sounded, and all armed citizens were ordered to scour the woods and seize upon the agent of Pitt. On the ensuing day the poor priest, exhausted with fatigue, hunted like a wild beast and utterly famished, returned to the city and surrendered himself to his tormentors. He was at once carried before the Revolutionary Tribunal. He was asked his name, and had no sooner replied than the jury, without hearing indictment or evidence, pronounced him guilty, and he was sentenced to death. Being remanded to the prison he spent the night in prayer. When the Gens d’armes arrived the next morning to take him to the place of execution they found him resigned and courageous. Fortified by his religious sentiments and conscious innocence, he proclaimed that he preferred death to living in a society in which every spark of justice was extinguished. The time was come, he said, when good men should no longer desire to live, and he would show his fellow-citizens in how calm a manner an innocent man could die. He refused to get into the cart, and with a steady step and cheerful countenance, surrounded by the Sbirri of Le Bon and the miscreants who delight in bloodshed, he walked to the scaffold, which he mounted with joy. But even in the moment of death the bloody tyrant continued to torment him, he desired the execution to be delayed until his women appeared at the window of an opposite house; and when these unfeeling wretches, with a ferocity which disgraced their sex, waved their handkerchiefs as a symptom of exultation, the fatal knife was permitted to fall and the victim released from a world which was unworthy of him. [Sidenote: DESCRIPTION OF AMIENS] I have described this melancholy event in order to contrast it with Le Bon’s own behaviour at the place of execution. The night before he suffered excruciating agonies of mind. At intervals he attempted to destroy himself, but fear and hope withheld his hand. He was heard to give loud shrieks, yells of rage, disappointment, terror and despair. When he was brought out of the prison to be seated in the cart, the shout that rent the air cannot be described--a person who was present assured me that the howls of cannibals were nothing compared to it. The populace spat upon him; they asked him, as it was a fine day why he did not walk to the guillotine, as the priest had done a few weeks previously, and die like a man? He was goaded with a thousand terrible questions; and as the procession moved women and children danced in the streets, clapping their hands, and reproaching him with a number of bitter recollections.