"I thought the Tribunal would not sit to-morrow on account of the Festival of the Supreme Being?"
"You are right! But they will sit the day after to-morrow. You understand, I want to be free to-morrow and to take part in the festival...."
And with a cynical laugh he called for a glass of wine, which he emptied at a draught.
"Attention! We must begin business!" he said; and with this he unfolded the paper, the terrible paper, wherein the fate of the victims had been decided in advance. But the day was near its close, the Recorder could not see, and had to ask for a lantern.
The courtyard was full now.
Prisoners from the neighbouring yards had assembled in answer to the call. All this little world was affected by various feelings; some were resigned, some hopeful, some indifferent or frightened as they looked at the messenger of death, who seemed quite unconscious of his ignominy.
What names would fall from his lips? There were some, worn out and weary, looking forward to death as a release, who would have willingly put theirs into his mouth. Others, more feeble, who were undergoing the full horrors of suspense, stood in breathless fear, almost choked with anguish. Oh! that horrible hope of hearing another's name called, rather than one's own! And yet...
The Recorder was becoming impatient.
"Where is that lantern!" he shouted. "Is every one asleep here?"
A few of the prisoners had refrained from joining the anxious crowd; either from habit or indifference, without disturbing themselves, they continued playing or conversing as before. Clarisse and Thérèse were seated at a little distance, their eyes fixed on the dread official, while Olivier, standing near, ready to defend them, watched the affecting scene with strained anxiety.