... Virtus post fata virescit; Nec cruce nec sævi gladio perit illa tyranni. But he thought not of himself alone; he thought upon Geneva; he reflected that the death of the defenders of liberty secured its victory, and that it was by this means the holiest causes triumphed, Et qu’un sang précieux, par martyre espandu, A la cause de Dieu servira de semence. Shortly after Bellegarde’s departure the confessor entered, discharged his duty mechanically, uttered the sentence: _Ego te absolvo_--and withdrew, showing no more sympathy for his victim than the provost had done. Then appeared a man with a cord: it was the executioner. It was then ten o’clock at night. The inhabitants of the little town and of the adjacent country were sleeping soundly, and no one dreamt of the cruel deed that was about to cut short the life of a man who might have shone in the first rank in a great monarchy. Bellegarde had no cause to fear that he would be disturbed in the accomplishment of his crime; still he dreaded the light; there was in his hardened conscience a certain uneasiness which alarmed him. The headsman bound the noble Lévrier, armed men surrounded him, and the martyr of law was conducted slowly to the castle yard. All nature was dumb, nothing broke the silence of that funereal procession; Charles’s agents moved like shadows beneath the ancient walls of the castle. The moon, which had not reached its first quarter, was near setting, and shed only a feeble gleam. It was too dark to distinguish the beautiful mountains in the midst of which stood the towers whence they had dragged their victim; the trees and houses of Bonne were scarcely visible; one or two torches, carried by the provost’s men, alone threw light upon this cruel scene. On reaching the middle of the castle yard, the headsman stopped and the victim also. The ducal satellites silently formed a circle round them, and the executioner prepared to discharge his office. Lévrier was calm: the peace of a good conscience supported him in this dread hour. He thought of God, of law, of duty, of Geneva, of liberty, and of the legitimate authority of St. Peter, whom, in the simplicity of his heart, he regarded as the sovereign of the city. It was really the prince-bishop whom he thus designated, but not wishing to utter the name of a prelate whom he despised, he substituted that of the apostle. Alone in the night, in those sublime regions of the Alps, surrounded by the barbarous figures of the Savoyard mercenaries, standing in that feudal court-yard, which the torches illumined with a sinister glare, the heroic champion of the law raised his eyes to heaven and said: ‘By God’s grace I die without anxiety, for the liberty of my country and the authority of St. Peter.’ The grace of God, liberty, authority--these main principles of the greatness of nations were his last confession. The words had hardly been uttered when the