But before tackling this question, one word more about Louvel. God forbid that we should glorify the assassin, no matter to what party he belonged! We would only indicate, from the historical point of view, the difference that may exist between one murderer and another. We have related how Louvel disappeared, first round the corner of the rue de Richelieu and then under the Colbert Arcade. He was just on the point of escaping when a carriage barred his course and compelled him to slacken his pace. During this moment of hesitation, the sentinel, who had thrown down his gun to pursue him and who had lost sight of him, had a glimpse of him again and redoubled his speed, caught up with him and seized him round the waist, a waiter from a neighbouring café; at the same time seizing hold of him by his collar. When he was captured, the assassin did not attempt any fresh effort. One would have thought that from motives of self-preservation he would have struggled to escape, but his one attempt at flight seemed to satisfy him, and had they let go their hold, he would not have taken his chance to regain liberty. Louvel was taken to the guard-house below the vestibule of the Opera. "Wretch!" exclaimed M. de Clermont-Lodève, "what can have induced you to commit such a crime?" "The desire to deliver France from one of its cruellest enemies." "Who paid you to carry out the deed?" "Paid me!" cried Louvel, tossing his head,--"paid me!" Then with a scornful smile he added, "Do you think one would do such a thing for money?" Louvel's trial was carried to the Upper Chamber. On 5 June he appeared before the High Court. On the following day he was condemned to death. Four months had been spent in trying to find his accomplices, but not one had been discovered. He was taken back to the Conciergerie, an hour after his sentence had been pronounced, and one of his warders came to him. "You would like," said the man to the prisoner, who throughout his trial had preserved the utmost calm and even the greatest decorum,--"you would like to send for a priest?" "What for?" asked Louvel. "Why, to ease your conscience." "Oh, my conscience is at ease: it tells me I did my duty." "Your conscience deceives you. Listen to what I say and make your peace with God: that is my advice." "And if I confess, do you suppose that will send me to Paradise?" "May be: the mercy of God is infinite." "Do you think the Prince de Condé, who has just died, will be in Paradise?" "He should be, he was an upright prince." "In that case, I would like to join him there; it would amuse me vastly to plague the old _émigré._" The conversation was here interrupted by M. de Sémonville, who came to try and extract information from the prisoner. Finding he could not get anything from him, he said to Louvel-- "Is there anything you want?" "Monsieur le comte," replied the condemned man, "I have had to sleep between such coarse sheets in prison, I would like some finer ones for my last night."