But the girl, kept from falling by his protective left arm, still gazes upon him idiotically. She had died, was it not true ? How then, she lives? What are these crowds, and who is this stranger? The gallant rescuer fears that her reason is gone! "Release that boy!" He has seen the wounded Pierre trussed in the far corner of the scaffold, guessed that some wild deed of the lad's stayed the judicial murder. His tones to the officials are sharp, imperative. The outraged superior of the hacked executioner looks around the assemblage for some prop of resistance--finds none--trembles--and is all bows and scrapes to do Danton's will. Pierre crawls painfully across the platform. He kisses the hem of his Savior's garment. Danton has brought Henriette to the ground. He is looking for her friends now. Catching sight of blind Louise starting up the steps, he brings her around and puts the loved sisters in front of one another.... Slowly the light of understanding comes into the eyes of her who had most loved and most suffered. She embraces Louise.... Danton is looking for yet another figure, the affianced of Henriette. He draws over de Vaudrey, places the latter's right hand within the free hand of Henriette. "Take her," he says kindly to de Vaudrey. "It is enough for me that I have saved France from this foul blot!..." ... Down in the crowd, too, the fortunes of war have changed. The wicked Frochards, who have been egging on the crowds to jeer the victims, have become distinctly unpopular. It is Picard's turn to jest the Frochards now. A grenadier offers a little friendly assistance with the bayonet, pricking the old hag in a tender part as if by accident. She jumps and squeals. Sly Picard watches another chance, shoves forward his friend's bayonet to prick her again. ... Both she and her precious Jacques the Good-for-Nothing take it on the run, enduring the buffets of the railing soldiery. Yes, Picard--our genial rogue of a body servant--gets in the last bayonet pricks and body wallops of this story! CHAPTER XXX THE AFTERMATH Danton later suffered the dark hour and the snapping of Life's thread through Robespierre's cruelty, but the glory of that valiant soul is eternal. His plea for the ways of Mercy--his gallant deeds (like this particular one) of risking all for the life of a friend--were as signposts to bewildered humanity. He foresaw the precipice down which the Terrorists were headed for the pit: "This time twelvemonth I was moving the creation of that same Revolutionary Tribunal. I crave pardon for it of God and man. They are all Brothers Cain--I leave the whole business in a frightful welter. Robespierre will follow me; I drag down Robespierre!" Of a verity, the following Thermidor or hot July saw the fate come true. Universally execrated, the Tyrant was himself dragged down and guillotined. Fell with him the rest of the murdering crew. Black hatred--foul suspicion--wicked vengeance vanished like departing plagues.