The prime mover in the conspiracy had not, however, yet been tried. He had fallen into a state of gloomy despondency, which lasted during his whole term of imprisonment. He was terribly broken, both in body and mind. Once only did the blood mount to his pallid cheeks, and that was on the morning when the Duke de Sairmeuse entered the cell to examine him. “It was you who drove me to do what I did,” exclaimed Lacheneur. “God sees us and judges us both!” Unhappy man! his faults had been great: his chastisement was terrible. He had sacrificed his children on the altar of his wounded pride; and did not even have the consolation of pressing them to his heart and of asking their forgiveness before he died. Alone in his cell, he could not turn his mind from his son and daughter; but such was the terrible situation in which he had placed himself that he dared not ask what had become of them. Through a compassionate keeper, however, he learned that nothing had been heard of Jean, and that it was supposed Marie-Anne had escaped to some foreign country with the D’Escorval family. When summoned before the court for trial, Lacheneur was calm and dignified in manner. He made no attempt at defence, but answered every question with perfect frankness. He took all the blame upon himself, and would not give the name of any one accomplice. Condemned to be beheaded, he was executed on the following day, walking to the scaffold and mounting to the platform with a firm step. A few seconds later the blade of the guillotine fell with a loud whirr, and the rebellion of the fourth of March counted its twenty-first victim. That same evening the townsfolk of Montaignac were busy talking of the magnificent rewards which were to be bestowed on the Duke de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu, for their services to the royal cause, and a report was flying abroad to the effect that Martial and Mademoiselle Blanche were now to be married with great pomp, and with as little delay as possible. XXIII.