Edward paused in thought for a moment, and then replied, "That is well bethought, Beaupré; for though I think I have nothing to fear, yet in common courtesy I owe my second visit to one who has been so kind to me. I will go directly. Let the landlord know that I may be a little later than I mentioned at dinner." Edward put on his hat and went out into the place, taking care to mark particularly the position of the auberge, that he might not be forced to inquire his way in a town where so many dangers lurked on every side. The road to Monsieur de Tronson's house was easy; and, crossing the square, the young gentleman directed his course toward the end of the street where, when passing in the coach, he had seen a crowd of workmen, who were still gathered round a spot about a hundred and fifty or two hundred yards in advance. On approaching nearer, Edward caught sight of a platform of wood raised some eight or ten steps from the ground. He could only discern a part, for the people had gathered thickly round; but, though he had never before seen the preparations for a public execution, it flashed through his mind at once that this was the scaffold on which the unhappy Chalais was to suffer. To avoid the terrible scene, he turned toward the left; but, just as he was approaching the end of the street, a shout came up from the water-side and a dull rushing sound from the southeast. A large crowd poured into the square from both sides; and before Edward could escape he was caught by the two currents and forced along to within thirty yards of the scaffold. He tried to free himself and force his way out, but a warning voice sounded in his ear. "Be quiet, young gentleman," said an elderly man close by, speaking in a low tone. "This young count has to die, and, if he be your best friend, take no notice. Suspicion is as good as proof here just now. Look where he comes!" Edward turned his eyes in the direction to which the old man was looking, and beheld a sight which was but a mere prologue to the horrors that were to follow, but which could never be banished from his memory. Surrounded by a body of guards came a tall, handsome young man, without his cloak, as if he had been torn from his dungeon unprepared, but still showing, in such habiliments as he did wear, all the extravagant splendor of the times. By his side, with her hand passed through his arm, as if to support him, and pouring a torrent of words into his ear, was an elderly lady in a widow's dress. Her face and carriage were noble and dignified, though lines of past grief and present anguish were strongly marked upon her countenance; but when she lifted her eyes toward the scaffold, and beheld there a stout, bad-looking man leaning on a large, heavy sword, a sort of spasm passed over her features. "That is his mother," whispered the same voice which Edward had heard before.