“So much for the régime of the Temple!” said George, aloud, as he looked after the insensible form of his friend.
“Silence, sir!” cried one of the judges, M. Thuriot, a harsh and severe-looking man, whose hatred to the prisoners was the subject of much conversation in the prison.
“Ah, it is you, Tue-Roi!” cried George, punning upon his name, for he had been one of the regicides. “You there! I thought they had found you out long ere this.”
A burst of laughter that nothing could repress broke through the crowded court, and it was not until some five or six persons were forcibly removed by the gendarmes that order was again restored.
“Read the act of accusation,” said the President, in a deep solemn voice.
“In the name of the Republic, one and indivisible—”
“Monsieur le President,” interrupted the Procureur-Général, “I would submit to the court, that as in the first accusation there are several of the prisoners not included, they should not remain during the recital of the indictment.”
A conversation of some minutes now took place between the judges, during which again the silence was unbroken in the court. I turned gladly from the gaze of the thousand spectators to the bench where my fellow-prisoners were seated; and however varied by age, rank, and occupation, there seemed but one feeling amongst them,—a hardy and resolute spirit to brave every danger without flinching.
“Which of the prisoners are not accused under the first act?” said Thuriot.
“Charles Auguste Bebarde, dit le Noir; Guillaume Lebarte; and Thomas Burke, Sous-Lieutenant in the Eighth Regiment of Hussars.”