“Général Moreau!” said the President, in a deep voice that was heard throughout the entire court. “Rise up, sir,” added he, after a few seconds' pause.
I looked down the bench, at the farthest end of which I saw the tall and well-knit figure of a man in the uniform of a general of the Republic; his back was turned towards me, but his bearing and carriage were quite enough to distinguish the soldier.
“Your name and surname,” said the President.
Before an answer could be returned, a dull sound, like something heavy falling, resounded through the court, and in an instant several persons around me stood up. I bent forward to see, and beheld the figure of Bouvet de Lozier stretched insensible upon the ground; beside him his faithful friend George was stooping, and endeavoring to open his vest to give him air.
“Bring some water here quickly!” cried the hardy Breton, in a tone that showed little respect for where he stood. “Your absurd ceremonial has frightened the poor boy out of his senses.”
“Respect the court, sir, or I commit you!” said the President, in a voice of anger.
A contemptuous look, followed by a still more contemptuous shrug of the shoulders, was his reply.
“Remove the prisoner,” said the President, pointing to the still fainting youth, “and proclaim silence in the court.”
The officers of the tribunal carried the deathlike figure of the boy down the steps, and bore him to some of the chambers near.
This little incident, slight and passing as it was, seemed much to affect the auditory, and it was some time before perfect silence could be again restored.