When the first of the condemned men mounted the steps of the scaffold, his companions thundered out a French psalm, translated by Clément Marot, as much to afford him on whom the punishment was about to fall some last consolation as to mark their own constancy in the face of their enemies and their doom. Therefore they sang at the foot of the scaffold,-- "Dieu nous soit doux et favorable, Nous bénissant par sa bonté, Et de son visage adorable Nous fasse luire sa clarté."[5] A verse was sung for every head as it fell; but every head that fell made one voice less in the chorus. In an hour but twelve gentlemen remained, and they the most prominent leaders of the conspiracy. Then there was a pause. The two executioners were weary, and the king was arriving. François II. was more than pale; he was absolutely livid. Mary Stuart took her place at his right, and Catherine de Médicis at his left. The Cardinal de Lorraine took his place beside the queen-mother; and the Prince de Condé was shown to a seat beside the young queen. When the prince appeared upon the platform, almost as pale as the young king himself, the twelve condemned men saluted him. He gravely responded to their salutation. "I always bow in the presence of death," he remarked aloud. The king was received, however, with less respect than the Prince de Condé. No acclamation welcomed him upon his arrival. He noticed the omission, and turning to the cardinal, he said, with an angry frown,-- "Ah, Monsieur le Cardinal, I will never forgive you for forcing us to come hither!" Charles de Lorraine, however, had raised his hand as a signal for the marks of devotion to be manifested, and a few voices scattered through the crowd cried,-- "_Vive le roi_!" "You hear, Sire?" rejoined the cardinal. "Yes," said the king, sadly; "I hear a few awkward fellows, who but serve to make the general silence more noticeable." Meanwhile the remainder of the royal gallery had been occupied. The king's brothers, the papal nuncio, the Duchesse de Guise, had taken their places there one after another. Then came the Duc de Nemours, also very pale, and looking as if he were the prey of bitter remorse. Last of all two men took their stations there, behind the others, whose presence in that place and at that time was perhaps not less remarkable than that of the Prince de Condé. They were Ambroise Paré and Gabriel de Montgommery. They had been led thither by very different motives. Ambroise Paré had been summoned to Amboise some days before by the Duc de Guise, who was decidedly alarmed concerning the health of his royal nephew; and Mary Stuart, no less alarmed than her uncle, and seeing how dejected François was at the mere thought of the _auto-da-fè_ implored the surgeon to be at hand to assist the king in case he should faint.