The people of the Tribune were this day in a ferocious mood, calculated to excite the severity of the jury placed under the immediate surveillance of the gossips and inhabitants of the suburbs. The juries under these circumstances became more excited and energetic, resembling an actor who redoubles his efforts beneath the eyes of a censorious public.
Since ten in the morning five condemnations had already taken place under the decisions of these harsh and insatiable juries.
The two individuals who now found themselves on the bench of the accused awaited the decisive moment when "yes" or "no" would return them to life or doom them to death.
The audience, rendered savage by the daily occurrence of these spectacles, now become their favorite pastime, prepared them by exclamations and anticipations for the awful moment.
"There! there! look at the tall one!" said a beldam, who, not having a bonnet, wore a tricolored cockade as large as a hand on her head,—"there! is he not pale? One would swear he was already dead."
The condemned regarded the woman with a contemptuous smile.
"What do you say?" replied her neighbor; "why, he is smiling."
"Yes; on the wrong side of his mouth."
One of the men looked at his watch.
"What is the time?" inquired his companion.