These words were pronounced with so much heat that Maurice saw clearly that they were decisive. To reply was in a manner to fix irrevocably his fate.
Maurice was incapable of cowardice. He drew himself up like a Spartan, and said in a firm voice,—
"Yes, Maurice Lindey; yes, Maurice Lindey, the secretary of the section Lepelletier; yes, Maurice Lindey, the patriot, the revolutionist, the Jacobin; Maurice Lindey, in short, whose brightest day on earth will be that on which he will die for liberty."
A death-like silence followed this reply.
Maurice presented his breast, expecting every moment that the blade, whose point he had already felt, would be plunged into his heart.
"Is your statement really true?" asked a voice which betrayed some emotion; "come, young man, do not lie."
"Search my pocket," said Maurice, "and you will find my commission. Look at my shirt-bosom, and if my blood has not effaced them, you will there see embroidered my initials, M and L."
Maurice at once felt himself lifted by strong arms which bore him a short distance. He heard first one door open, then another; but the second was narrower than the first, for his bearers could scarcely pass through with him.
The murmurs and whispers continued.