"Silence; some one is coming." And Gaston went away from the chimney.
The door opened, and the major and lieutenant, with four soldiers, came for Gaston, who followed them.
"I am lost," murmured he. "Poor Helene."
And he raised his head with the intrepidity of a brave man, who, knowing death was near, went boldly to meet it.
"Monsieur," said D'Argenson, "your crime has been examined by the tribunal of which I am the president. In the preceding sittings you were permitted to defend yourself; if you were not granted advocates, it was not with the intention of inquiring your defense, but, on the contrary, because it was useless to give you the extreme indulgence of a tribunal charged to be severe."
"I do not understand you."
"Then I will be more explicit. Discussion would have made one thing evident, even in the eyes of your defenders—that you are a conspirator and an assassin. How could you suppose that with these points established indulgence would be shown you. But here you are before us, every facility will be given for your justification. If you ask a delay, you shall have it. If you wish researches, they shall be made. If you speak, you have the reply, and it will not be refused you."
"I understand, and thank the tribunal for this kindness," replied Gaston. "The excuse it gives me for the absence of a defender seems sufficient. I have not to defend myself."
"Then you do not wish for witnesses, delays, or documents?"
"I wish my sentence—that is all."