To do the Terrorists justice they were not disposed to treat their prisoners with any other cruelty than to cut their heads off; and Hoche was allowed the consolation of writing to his wife and of receiving her letters. He was soon joined by a young man named Thoiras of whose imprisonment he was the innocent cause. Thoiras was a friend of the family of Madame Hoche, and had expressed indignation at Hoche’s arrest. To be imprisoned was to be condemned to die. No trial, no examination; but every evening the Committee of Public Safety went over the list, and marked off chiefly at random, as many as could be guillotined on the morrow; and this fatal roll was read aloud each morning, in the different prisons. One day the name of Thoiras was called. He bade farewell to Hoche, and drew from his pocket a watch which he begged him to keep for his sake. That watch is still in the family of Hoche. That is to say, the last I know of it, it belonged to the Marchioness of Roye, Hoche’s daughter; but that lady was born about a century ago. Among other interesting prisoners whose acquaintance Hoche made in the Concièrgerie, were two young and charming widows whose fate proved different from what was then threatened. One of them, instead of having her head cut off by the guillotine, was to have it encircled by a diadem. It was Josephine de Beauharnais. The other was already a passive agent in a plot for the overthrow of the Terror. We shall say more about her presently. As fast as prisoners were led out to execution others were brought in to take their places; and who might be the new comers was a daily subject of mournful curiosity to those already incarcerated. One day there were ushered into the Concièrgerie three men who caused great amazement. Two were recognized as Saint Just and Couthon. The third had his face bound up with a bloody napkin, but it was soon whispered about that it was none other than the terrible Robespierre himself. The tale has been told a thousand times: perhaps you will listen to it the thousand and first time. One of the youngest and ablest members of the Convention was Jean Lambert Tallien. He was not a good man: his hand was as blood-stained as the rest. He had clamored for the death of the king, and for the death of his co-republicans the Girondists. He had seconded Danton in the massacres of September. He had recently been sent to Bordeaux to see that the Terror was duly administered there, and that an adequate number of heads fell daily in the market-place, and he had fulfilled his mission with diabolical fidelity.