"You knew that when any Companion, even under torture, reveals the names of his brethren, he incurs the death-penalty, and that this penalty is executed without reprieve or delay the moment that proof of his treachery is furnished?"
"I knew it."
"What could have induced you to break your oaths?"
"The impossibility of resisting the torture of loss of sleep. I resisted for five nights, on the sixth I asked for death, which was sleep. They would not give it to me. I sought a means to take my own life; but my jailers had taken their precautions so well that I could find none. On the seventh night I yielded. I promised to make disclosures on the morrow if they would let me sleep; but they insisted that I should speak at once. It was then in despair, insane from want of sleep, held up by the two men who prevented me from sleeping, I stammered the four names of M. de Valensolles, M. de Barjols, M. de Jayat, and M. de Ribier."
One of the monks drew from his pocket the record which they had taken from the registry, and held it before the prisoner's eyes.
"That is it," said the latter.
"And do you recognize your signature?" asked the monk.
"I recognize it," replied the young man.
"Have you any excuse to offer?" asked the monk.