Cimourdain was as pale as a corpse, and as motionless as a man who has been struck by lightning. He seemed to have lost the power of breathing. A great drop of sweat formed upon his forehead. He controlled his voice, forcing himself to speak firmly as he said:-- "Gendarmes, seat the accused." Gauvain took his seat on the stool. Cimourdain continued:-- "Gendarmes, draw your sabres." This was the usual formula when the accused was under sentence of death. The gendarmes bared their sabres. Cimourdain's voice regained its ordinary tone. "Accused," he said, "rise." He no longer used the familiar "thee" and "thou." III. THE VOTES. Gauvain rose. "What is your name?" asked Cimourdain. "Gauvain," was the reply. Cimourdain went on with the interrogatory:-- "Who are you?" "I am commander-in-chief of the expeditionary column of the Côtes-du-Nord." "Are you a kinsman or connection of the man who has escaped?" "I am his great-nephew." "Are you acquainted with the decree of the Convention?" "I see the placard on your table." "What have you to say in regard to this decree?" "That I have countersigned it, and have ordered its execution; that it was I who had that placard written, to which my name is affixed." "Choose your defender." "I will defend myself." "You may speak." Cimourdain had become impassible. Only his impassibility was more like the calmness of a rock than that of a man. For a moment Gauvain remained silent and thoughtful. Cimourdain continued:-- "What have you to say in your defence?" Gauvain slowly raised his head, and without looking at any one, replied:-- "This: one thing has prevented me from seeing another. A good deed, viewed too near at hand, hid from my sight hundreds of criminal actions; on the one side, an aged man, on the other, children,--all this interfered between me and my duty. I forgot the burning villages, the ravaged fields, the massacred prisoners, the wounded cruelly put to death, the women shot; I forgot France betrayed to England: I have set at liberty the country's murderer. I am guilty. When I speak thus I seem to speak against myself, but it is not so; I am speaking in my own behalf. When he who is guilty acknowledges his fault, he saves the only thing worth saving--honor." "Is this all you have to say in your defence?" returned Cimourdain. "I will add, that being the commander I should have set an example, and that you in turn as judges must offer one." "What example do you require of us?" "My death." "You think it just?" "And necessary." "Take your seat."