Again it was whip and spur, nor, with no more than a scant league to go, was there need to spare the horses. Spare them? We drove them along at the dagger's point. But the throbbing exultation born of that wild burst had died away, and it was a weary, trembling, white-faced woman who, leading the Scots lad by ten lengths, splashed uuhalting through the Clain and galloped up the hill to the newly opened gate, for the sun was fully risen, and down the valley of the Clain the morning mists were all a-swim with glory. Before the gate the guard stretched themselves, yawning, and when I would have passed, one caught my bridle. But with a wrench I dragged it from his grasp. "A pardon!" I cried, my lips dry and cracked, my woman's voice harsh and shrill by turns. "The King is dead! Long live the King! I bear a pardon from King Charles!" With that they closed in upon me, clamouring, and Lesellè rode up. "Tell them," I gasped, "tell them as we go, but in God's name, let us ride on. Monsieur de Helville!--a pardon from the King!" The name pricked them. "De Helville?" cried one, flinging out a level arm to point ahead. "On--on--to the right--in front of Notre Dame; perhaps there is still time." Oh! that last dash through the still streets in the cool of the morning! At my right was Lesellè, his face whiter than my own. His left hand was thrust through his belt, the palm flattened outwards. Bay Zadok had broken the arm, and all through the night he had ridden in his pain, making no moan. But I had no thought of pity for him, my thought was all with the packed crowd before us, a crowd that filled the square and overflowed into every avenue of approach, choking them. When Louis said, Do this! it was the people's wisdom to obey; and, even under Louis, a Seigneur was not hung every day of the week! Dropping the reins, Lesellè drew his sword and pushed on ahead. "God save King Charles!" he cried, standing in his stirrups and shouting till the cry roared down even the buzzing clamour of the crowd. "God save King Charles! A pardon! A pardon!" How such a knitted throng could part asunder I do not know; who went down under whose feet in the surge backwards I do not know; but the roar, the thundering gallop, and the naked steel cleft them like a plough cutting a furrow through a sodden field, and we burst into the square unchecked. In the centre was a hollow kept clear of rabble by treble lines of soldiers, and we, looking above the swaying sea of heads, saw what they guarded--a gibbet, a wheeled platform drawn by oxen, and on the platform three men; they were Gaspard, Father Paulus, and another. A short ladder rose slanting above the wheel. "God save King Charles!" we cried, "God save King Charles! A pardon! a pardon! The King is dead, is dead; God save the King!" What a silence fell upon the crowd! what a silence! It was stiller than death itself. Then a roar broke out, drowning our puny outcry.