And then to-morrow at dawn, death for them both under the guillotine. Death in public, with all its attendant horrors: the packed tumbril; the priest, in civil clothes, appointed by this godless government, muttering conventional prayers and valueless exhortations.
And in his heart there was nothing but love for her—love and an intense pity—for the punishment she was suffering was far greater than her crime. He hoped that in her heart remorse would not be too bitter; and he looked forward with joy to the next few hours, which he would pass near her, during which he could perhaps still console and soothe her.
She was but the victim of an ideal, of Fate stronger than her own will. She stood, an innocent martyr to the great mistake of her life.
But the minutes sped on. Foucquier-Tinville had evidently completed his new indictments.
The one against Juliette Marny was read out first. She was now accused of conspiring with Paul Deroulede against the safety of the Republic, by having cognisance of a treasonable correspondence carried on with the prisoner, Marie Antoinette; by virtue of which accusation the Public Prosecutor asked her if she had anything to say.
“No,” she replied loudly and firmly. “I pray to God for the safety and deliverance of our Queen, Marie Antoinette, and for the overthrow of this Reign of Terror and Anarchy.”
These words, registered in the “Bulletin du Tribunal Revolutionnaire” were taken as final and irrefutable proofs of her guilt, and she was then summarily condemned to death.
She was then made to step down from the dock and Deroulede to stand in her place.
He listened quietly to the long indictment which Foucquier-Tinville had already framed against him the evening before, in readiness for this contingency. The words “treason against the Republic” occurred conspicuously and repeatedly. The document itself is at one with the thousands of written charges, framed by that odious Foucquier-Tinville during these periods of bloodshed, and which in themselves are the most scathing indictments against the odious travesty of Justice, perpetrated with his help.
Self-accused, and avowedly a traitor, Deroulede was not even asked if he had anything to say; sentence of death was passed on him, with the rapididy and callousness peculiar to these proceedings.
After which Paul Deroulede and Juliette Marny were led forth, under strong escort, into the street.
The Fructidor Riots.
Many accounts, more or less authentic, have been published of the events known to history as the “Fructidor Riots.”
But this is how it all happened: at any rate it is the version related some few days later in England to the Prince of Wales by no less a personage than Sir Percy Blakeney; and who indeed should know better than The Scarlet Pimpernel himself?