‘He can swim like a fish,’ said the fellow at the window. ‘I recollect him long ago, when they took him at the boat-mill.’
‘This shall stop him from doing so again!’ shouted a ruffian. ‘I will take the law out of M. de la Reynie’s hands. My brother in the Guet Royal was poisoned that night. Now see if he will swim.’
As he spoke he raised a butcher’s bill above the crowd, and it descended upon the head of the miserable Italian, crushing his skull before it. An awful yell of triumph broke from the crowd as the body was raised high above them by a dozen swart arms, and hurled with savage force over the bridge into the chafing river below. Thus terribly died the physician.
During this bloody and rapid scene Desgrais took advantage of the rush made by the mob in another direction to ride before the tumbrel, clearing the way as he best could for the cortege of the Marchioness to proceed, expecting that she would next fall a victim to the fury of the populace. Directly they got from the bridge to the quay adjoining the Port au Foin, he found the way cleared by the troops, who lined the footway on either side, and had been on duty since the early morning. But the crowd was still very great outside the line; and their cries never ceased, albeit Marie paid no attention to them now that the danger which had a minute before threatened her was averted; but never moved her eyes from the crucifix, which Pirot had held before her throughout the scene, until the procession turned from the Port to the Place de Grêve.
The sight here presented was sufficient at once to draw Marie’s attention from the exhortations of her companion. The entire Place was filled with spectators, the troops keeping but a little space clear immediately around the scaffold, which rose in the centre some ten feet from the ground. Far along the quay and the streets leading from the Grêve did the sea of heads extend. All the housetops were crowded with gazers, swarming like bees upon the parapets and chimneys, and on the ledges over the shops; and every window-place in the Hôtel de Ville had its dozen occupants.
Pirot had expected a terrible outburst of malediction when the cortege arrived here, and feared also that the courage of the Marchioness would entirely fail her upon getting the first sight of the scaffold. But on both points he was mistaken. As the tumbrel advanced, after the first murmur of recognition a dead silence reigned; amidst this vast mass of many thousands not a sound was audible but the bell of the Tour d’Horloge, which kept tolling hoarsely at protracted intervals. Marie herself betrayed but little emotion. A rapid shiver passed over her frame as she first saw the preparations for her execution; and then she bent her eyes upon Pirot, and so kept them steadfastly until the assistant headsman guided the horse to the foot of the scaffold.
At this fearful moment M. Drouet approached the tumbrel, and taking off his hat, with a show of courtesy, that appeared a mockery at such a moment, said—
‘Madame, I have orders to inform you that if you have any further declarations to make, the magistrates are ready to receive them at the Hotel de Ville.’
‘Monsieur,’ replied the Marchioness, ‘how much oftener am I to tell you that you know all? For pity’s sake do not further persecute me. I have confessed everything.’
Drouet turned his horse away, and rode up to the scaffold to exchange a few words with some of the officials who were standing near it. At the same moment the executioner descended from the cart, and with his man went up the steps of the scaffold.