“'Approach, Paul Ducos!' said the commissary.
“'Wait here, Father,' whispered the youth; 'I will come back presently.'
“But the old man, a fine and venerable figure, the remnant of a noble race, held him fast, and, as his lips trembled, said, 'Do not leave me, Paul; my child, my comforter, stay near me.'
“The boy looked round him for one face of kindly pity in this emergency, when, turning towards me, he said rapidly, 'Stand near him!' He broke from the old man's embrace, and rushing through the crowd, mounted the scaffold.
“'You are drawn for the conscription, young man,' said the commissary; 'but in consideration of your father's infirmity, a substitute will be accepted. Have you such?'
“The boy shook his head mournfully and in silence.
“'Have you any friend who would assist you here? Bethink you awhile,' rejoined the commissary, who, for his station and duties, was a kind and benevolent man.
“'I have none. They have left us nothing, neither home nor friends,' said the youth, bitterly; 'and if it were not for his sake, I care not what they do with me.'
“'Down with the tyrants!' yelled the mob, as they heard these haughty words.
“'Then your fate is decreed,' resumed the commissary.