Another judge replaced Dumas. The roll-call was hurried on. Twice Fouquier sent a physician to report the condition of the woman in the witness-room. A flutter of the eyelids would have meant death. She remained in a stupor, and was at last sent to the hospital. The roll-call ended. The jury, after the farce of declaring that they had heard sufficient evidence, retired to deliberate upon the guilt of the twenty-six. They returned shortly. It was late, and many suffered from the postponement of the luncheon-hour. One man acquitted--Aviot Turot, laborer. A shudder passed through the body of Dossonville, and a groan escaped his lips. The fatal, inevitable word "Guilty" overwhelmed him. Nicole heard it with a smile--sad, yet satisfied. Another stir, and a buzz of comments rose as the executioner entered and began to converse with Fouquier. Those in front, who could hear, called back: "Sanson is remonstrating." "Sanson wants the execution deferred." "He says the city is rising." A last time Fouquier refused to budge, and, crossing his arms, reiterated bluntly, to be heard by all: "No, no! I say no! Justice must take its course." The condemned, who had paused as they had risen trembling with hope, filed out, while the crowd in the court-room surged forth to meet the tumbrels. Dossonville, using his privilege of agent de sûreté, entered the prison, seeking Nicole in the crowd of prisoners massed in the outer hall; threading through anxious groups, who whispered: "You saw Dumas arrested?" "They say there is a revolt against Robespierre." "The people seemed to sympathize with us." Others, scorning to hang their hopes on desperate chances, waited stoically or reverently the summons to the tumbrels. A young aristocrat was whistling defiantly: "Oh, Richard, oh, mon roi, L'univers t'abandonne!" In another group, guarding their enmity to the end, two brothers of the people retorted with the "Marseillaise." Two women near Dossonville were chatting gaily: "I am so pale those cursed revolutionists will think that I am afraid." "You must not give them that satisfaction." "I do seem pale, then?" "Yes." "Ah, then I must rouge!" Dossonville examined the figure of the graceful woman, who was gaily daubing her cheeks, and recognized the famous Duchess of M----. At this moment, in the obscurity of the arches, he discovered at last the blue dress and golden hair of Nicole. "Oh, it is you," she cried joyfully. "I had hoped you could see me." "Nicole," he said bitterly, "this is your doing." Her manner changed; she grew serious. "My friend," she said, "I have but done what I wished. I am happy." She held up her finger with Barabant's ring on it. "You see, I am his wife, and I have saved him." The outward movement toward the tumbrels had begun. From the doorway the guards repeated: "Hurry up, there; hurry up, you cursed aristocrats!"