CHAPTER LVI.

LONG LIVE SIMON!

At the sound of this cry Maurice understood that the struggle was

about to commence. The influence of love may be able to exalt the soul

to heroism,--it may, against natural instinct, impel a human being

to desire death, but it had not in this instance extinguished the

repugnance to pain. It was evident that Geneviève resigned herself

the more patiently to death since Maurice was to die with her; but

resignation does not exclude suffering, and to quit this world is not

only to fall into the abyss termed unknown, but also to suffer in the

descent.

Maurice, at a glance, embraced the entire scene, and thought of what

would follow.

In the centre of the hall lay the suicide, from whose breast the

gendarme had just torn the weapon of destruction, fearing, probably, it

might be used by some of the others.

Around him were several individuals mute with despair and scarcely

heeding him, inscribing in their pocket-books some disconnected

words, or pressing one another's hands; some repeating, without any

intermission, a cherished name, or bathing with tears a portrait, a

ring, or tress of hair; some venting imprecations against tyranny,

a state of affairs cursed by all, ay sometimes even by the tyrants

themselves. In the midst of these unfortunates, Sanson, oppressed less

from his fifty years than his melancholy office,--Sanson, as mild,

and as much their consoler as his terrible vocation permitted him to

be, to this one offered advice, to that one some sad consolation or

encouragement, finding some Christian responses to their accents of

despair as well as to their bravado.

"Citizeness," said he to Geneviève, "I must remove your scarf, and cut

off your hair, if you please."

Geneviève began to tremble.

"Come, dear lady," said Lorin, softly, "take courage!"

"May I remove the lady's hair?" asked Maurice.

"Oh, yes," cried Geneviève; "I entreat you to permit him to do so,

Monsieur Sanson."

"He may," said the old man, turning away his head.

Maurice first took off his necktie, and Geneviève, stooping, fell on

her knees before the young man, presenting her charming head, appearing

more beautiful in her grief than she had ever been in her days of

sunshine and happiness.

When Maurice had completed the funereal operation, his hands were so

tremulous and his countenance betrayed so much grief that Geneviève

exclaimed,--

"Ah! I am courageous, Maurice."

Sanson turned round.

"Is it not so, sir?" said Geneviève; "am I not courageous?"

"Certainly, Citizen," replied the executioner, in a perturbed voice,

"for yours is true courage."

In the mean time the first assistant had glanced over the list

forwarded by Fouquier Tinville.

"Fourteen," said he.

Sanson counted the condemned.

"Fifteen, including the dead," said he; "why, how is this?"

Lorin and Geneviève counted after him, both struck by the same thought.

"You say there are only fourteen condemned, and that we are fifteen?"

said she.

"Yes; the Citizen Fouquier Tinville must have made a mistake."

"Ah! you spoke falsely, then," said Geneviève, turning to Maurice; "you

were not condemned."

"And why wait for to-morrow, when you die to-day?" said Maurice.

"My love," said she, smiling, "you reassure me; I am now convinced that

it is easy to die."

"Lorin," said Maurice, "now for the last time--no one here can

recognize you--say that you came to bid me adieu; say that you have

been shut in by mistake; call the gendarme who saw you go out. I am the

true criminal who ought to die. But you, my friend, we beseech you to

live to love our memory. There is yet time, Lorin; we entreat you!"

Geneviève joined her hands in an attitude of prayer. Lorin took both

her hands and kissed them.

"I have said no, and I mean no," said Lorin, in a firm voice; "say no

more on the subject, or I shall think I am a bore to you."

"Fourteen," repeated Sanson, "and here are fifteen;" then elevating his

voice, "Is there any one here who can protest against this?" said he;

"is there any one here who can prove he is here by mistake?"

Perhaps some lips half-opened at this question, but closed again

without uttering a single word; since those who felt inclined to lie

were ashamed to do so, and those who would not lie were determined not

to speak.

A silence of several minutes ensued, during which the assistants

continued their mournful office.

"Citizens, we are ready," said old Sanson, in his deep and solemn

voice. He was answered only by sobs and groans.

"Well!" said Lorin, "so be it!

No death is nobler, none more high,

Than for our native land to die.

Yes, to die for our native land; but decidedly I begin to think we do

not die for her, but for the pleasure of those who witness our deaths.

Faith! Maurice, I have adopted your opinion. I am disgusted with the

Republic!"

"The call!" said a commissary, at the door.

Several gendarmes entered the hall, closing up the issues, thus placing

themselves between life and the condemned, as if to prevent them from

returning to it.

The death-roll was called.

Maurice, who had witnessed the trial of the condemned man who had

destroyed himself, when his name was called answered in his stead. They

then found that, excepting the dead man, the number was correct.

The corpse was removed from the hall; but if the man's identity had

been established, and he had been recognized as one condemned, he would

have been guillotined with the rest, though already dead.

The survivors were pushed toward the outlet, in order that as each

passed before the wicket his hands might be tied behind his back.

For the space of ten minutes not a word was exchanged between these

unfortunates; the executioners alone seemed endowed with life or motion.

Maurice, Geneviève, and Lorin, not being any longer able to retain

their hold of each other, crowded together that they might not be

separated.

When the condemned were removed from the Conciergerie into the court,

the scene became truly appalling. Several grew faint at the sight of

the carts, and the turnkeys were compelled to assist them to mount the

steps of these vehicles of death. Behind the still closed doors was

heard the confused murmur of the crowd; and it might be inferred from

the sound that the concourse was immense.

Geneviève courageously ascended the car; Maurice at her side sustained

her; he sprang in rapidly after her.

Lorin did not hurry himself, but carefully selected his seat at the

left of Maurice.

The doors opened, and foremost in the crowd stood Simon. The two

friends immediately recognized him; indeed, the recognition was mutual.

He was standing upon a fence near which the cars must pass, for there

were three of them. The car containing our three friends moved first.

"Ah! good-day to you, my brave grenadier!" said Simon to Lorin; "you

are going to try the effect of my leather-cutting machine, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Lorin; "and I will be careful not to notch it, that it may

be ready when your turn comes."

The two remaining cars followed the direction of the first. And

now commenced a terrific tempest of cries, shouts, groans, and

maledictions, surrounding and following the condemned.

"Courage! Geneviève, take courage!" murmured Maurice.

"Oh!" replied the young woman, "I do not wish for life since I die with

you. I regret only that my hands are tied, so that I cannot embrace you

before I die."

"Lorin," said Maurice, "feel in my waistcoat pocket, there you will

find a knife."

"Zounds!" said Lorin, "a penknife is the very thing needed; I should be

ashamed to die, garroted like a calf."

Maurice placed his pocket on a level with his friend's hands; Lorin

found the knife, which between them they succeeded in opening. Maurice

then placed it between his teeth, and severed the cord which bound

Lorin's hands, who, the moment they were free, performed the same

office for Maurice.

"Make haste!" said the young man; "Geneviève is fainting."

In fact, to accomplish this operation Maurice had for a moment turned

from Geneviève, when, as if all her strength had been derived from him,

her eyes closed, and her head sank upon her breast.

"Geneviève, open your eyes, my love," said Maurice; "we have only a few

minutes more to see each other in this world."

"The cords wound me," murmured the young woman.

Maurice unbound them. She immediately re-opened her eyes, and rose,

radiant with almost celestial beauty. She threw one fair arm around

Maurice's neck, and with the other hand took that of Lorin; and thus,

all three standing in the cart, with two more victims lying at their

feet wrapped in the stupor of anticipated death, they gazed toward

heaven with a look of ardent gratitude for having been permitted to

support and console each other, while those who had outraged and

insulted them previously were now perfectly silent. The scaffold was in

sight. Maurice and Lorin beheld it. Geneviève did not; she saw naught

but her lover. The car stopped.

"I love thee!" said Maurice to Geneviève; "I love thee!"

"The woman first! the woman first!" shouted a thousand voices.

"Thanks, good people," said Maurice; "who then can call you cruel?"

He took Geneviève within his arms, pressed his lips fondly upon hers,

and delivered her to Sanson.

"Courage!" cried Lorin; "courage!"

"I have it!" said Geneviève; "I have it!"

"I love thee!" murmured Maurice; "I love thee!"

They were no longer victims about to be slaughtered, but friends making

a festival of death.

"Adieu!" cried Geneviève to Lorin.

"Farewell, till we meet again!" replied he.

And Geneviève disappeared under the fatal drop.

"After you," said Lorin.

"After you," replied Maurice.

"Hark! she calls you."

At this moment Geneviève uttered her last cry.

"Come!" said she.

A furious uproar took place in the crowd. The fair and graceful head

had fallen.

Maurice rushed forward.

"It is exactly correct," said Lorin; "let us follow logic. Do you hear

me, Maurice?"

"Yes."

"She loved you, and they have murdered her first; you are not

condemned, and therefore die the second; and I, who have done nothing,

being the greatest criminal of the three, die the last.

And thus you see how passing clear

Logic makes everything appear.

Good faith! Citizen Sanson, I promised you a quatrain; but you must be

content with a distich."

"I did love thee!" murmured Maurice, lying on the fatal plank, and

smiling at the head of his beloved,--"I did lo--" The knife cut short

the last word.

"Now for my turn!" cried Lorin, bounding on the scaffold, "and be

quick, or I shall lose my head! Citizen Sanson, I owe you two verses,

instead of which I offer you a pun."

Sanson placed him in his turn.

"Let us see," said Lorin,--"it is the fashion to cry long live

something, when dying. Once it was, 'Vive le Roi,' but now there is

no king; next the cry was, 'Vive la Liberté,' but there is no more

liberty. Faith, Long live Simon! say I, who unites us all three."

And the head of the generous and noble-hearted young man fell near

those of Maurice and Geneviève.

THE END.

THE

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