France -- History -- Revolution, 1789-1799 -- Fiction
She was then made to step down from the dock and Déroulède to stand in
her place.
He listened quietly to the long indictment which Foucquier-Tinville had
already framed against him the evening before, in readiness for this
contingency. The words "treason against the Republic" occurred
conspicuously and repeatedly. The document itself is at one with the
thousands of written charges, framed by that odious Foucquier-Tinville
during these periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves are the most
scathing indictments against the odious travesty of Justice, perpetrated
with his help.
Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, Déroulède was not even asked if he
had anything to say; sentence of death was passed on him, with the
rapidity and callousness peculiar to these proceedings.
After which Paul Déroulède and Juliette Marny were led forth, under
strong escort, into the street.
CHAPTER XXVII
The Fructidor Riots.
Many accounts, more or less authentic, have been published of the events
known to history as the "Fructidor Riots."
But this is how it all happened: at any rate it is the version related
some few days later in England to the Prince of Wales by no less a
personage than Sir Percy Blakeney; and who indeed should know better
than The Scarlet Pimpernel himself?
Déroulède and Juliette Marny were the last of the batch of prisoners who
were tried on that memorable day of Fructidor.
There had been such a number of these, that all the covered carts in use
for the conveyance of prisoners to and from the Hall of Justice had
already been despatched with their weighty human load; thus it was that
only a rough wooden cart, hoodless and rickety, was available, and into
this Déroulède and Juliette were ordered to mount.
It was now close on nine o'clock in the evening. The streets of Paris,
sparsely illuminated here and there with solitary oil lamps swung across
from house to house on wires, presented a miserable and squalid
appearance. A thin, misty rain had begun to fall, transforming the
ill-paved roads into morasses of sticky mud.
The Hall of Justice was surrounded by a howling and shrieking mob, who,
having imbibed all the stores of brandy in the neighbouring drinking
bars, was now waiting outside in the dripping rain for the express
purpose of venting its pent-up, spirit-sodden lust of rage against the
man whom it had once worshipped, but whom now it hated. Men, women, and
even children swarmed round the principal entrances of the Palais de
Justice, along the bank of the river as far as the Pont au Change, and
up towards the Luxembourg Palace, now transformed into the prison, to
which the condemned would no doubt be conveyed.
Along the river-bank, and immediately facing the Palais de Justice, a
row of gallows-shaped posts, at intervals of a hundred yards or more,
held each a smoky petrol lamp, at a height of some eight feet from the
ground.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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