“So much the better,” said he. “This must end one way or the other. Kiss me, children. And I wonder of what they accuse me?” he said, opening the paper. “The scoundrels!” he added; “they accuse me of nothing. Come, boys, eat; for this summons is indeed good news.”
He was taken to Paris, where, at this time, no man of mark, being put upon his trial, escaped the guillotine.
The one plausible accusation brought against Orleans must have compressed his heart.
“Did you not vote the King’s death in the hope of succeeding to his throne?”
“No; I obeyed my heart and my conscience.”
He heard his sentence calmly, despite the fact of his cowardice in his early years; and he replied sarcastically to his judges, “Since you were determined to condemn me, you should have found better pretexts than you have; for, as it is, you will deceive no man into believing that you think me guilty. I am in the way. And you too,” he said, turning to a once Marquis d’Autonelle, an old friend,—“you to condemn me! Finally,” he continued, “since I am to die, I demand not to be left in gaol a whole night, but to be at once taken to the block.”
This desire was not complied with. Returning to the gaol, his rage was terrible.
The Abbé Lambert approached and said, “Citizen Equality, will you accept my assistance, or, at least, the offer of my condolence?”
“Who are you?”
“The Vicar-General of the Bishop of Paris. If you will not accept my religious help, can I be of any service to you after your death? Have you messages to send?”