I held my breath and listened. What did this mean? Ferrieres still lay back in his semi-trance, oblivious of all things; but mademoiselle moved forward and looked at De Ganache, ineffable pity in her eyes. And now came the next question. "They are known to you as Christaudins?" One glance at mademoiselle and De Ganache shrank back; but her voice rang out clear and sweet, for she, with all of us, mistook the reason of De Ganache's terrible emotion. "Deny it not, De Ganache! Be not afraid." But with a cry De Ganache put his hands to his face and turned aside. A woman began to sob amongst the spectators, and someone dropped a sword with an angry clash on the parquet. Once more the strident voices of the ushers arose, and after a little silence was restored. De Mouchy was about to put yet another question when La Valentinois interposed. "It is enough," she said; "I but wanted to confront them. Let him have his reward." De Mouchy smiled, and bending forward addressed De Ganache. "Gaston de Ganache, Vicomte de Ganache and Les Barres, you stand convicted a heretic and traitor, and for crimes such as yours the laws of God and man have but one punishment. But bearing in mind the services you have rendered by denouncing your fellow-conspirators and discovering their secrets to the King's most trusty servants, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain, and myself, the King at the intercession of Madame the Duchess de Valentinois has in his gracious mercy spared your life on condition that you quit France within four and twenty hours. Monsieur, you are free." As these astonishing words fell from the judge's lips--words that branded De Ganache with unutterable infamy--the miserable man looked around him like an animal at bay; and then, a madness coming upon him, he broke out into peal after peal of harsh, mirthless laughter--laughter that seemed to come from the grave and beyond; and, laughing thus, they led him away. When he was gone De Mouchy pointed to Ferrieres as he said to a warder: "Arouse him!" They dragged the fainting man to his feet, and he stood limply between two gaolers; and then the judge asked: "Prisoners, is there anything you would like to say?" And mademoiselle answered for both, in a low but distinct voice: "Nothing. We confess we are of the true faith, and we are willing to die for it. As to our having conspired against the King--we are innocent!" And as she spoke some strange idea must have passed through the wandering brain of Ferrieres. Half in delirium, he looked about him, and with a supreme effort, standing free of the warders, he called out in a loud, fever-strung voice: "_Vive le Roi_!" It was one of those moments when the sympathy of a crowd can be caught by a word. Small and mean-looking as he was there was something so forlorn and hopeless in the gallant cry of the doomed man that all hearts were touched. A low, responsive murmur broke from the spectators, and then with one voice they too shouted: