Although the unhappy party at the Hotel de France were not aware of this circumstance, they passed a sleepless, anxious night; and it was relief, indeed, when the daylight peered through the windows and the reveille could be heard beating at the citadel; for now at least they might renew their efforts. The abbe intimated his intention of going alone to the duke’s house, declaring that he would find a way to force an entrance. He had just bathed his red and swollen eyes in fresh water, and was preparing to start, when a rap was heard at the door. Directly afterwards M. Laugeron, the landlord, entered the room. His face betokened some dreadful misfortune; and indeed he had just been made acquainted with the composition of the military commission. In defiance of all equity and justice, the presidency of this tribunal of vengeance had been offered to the Duke de Sairmeuse who had unblushingly accepted it—he who was at the same time both witness and executioner. Moreover, he was to be assisted by other officers hitherto placed under his immediate orders.
“And when does the commission enter upon its functions?” inquired the abbe.
“To-day,” replied the host, hesitatingly; “this morning—in an hour—perhaps sooner!”
The priest understood well enough what M. Laugeron meant, but what he dared not say: “The commission is assembling, make haste.” “Come!” said the abbe Midon turning to Maurice, “I wish to be present when your father is examined.”
The baroness would have given anything to accompany the priest and her son; but this could not be; she understood it, and submitted. As Maurice and his companion stepped into the street they saw a soldier a short distance off who made a friendly gesture. Recognizing Corporal Bavois, they paused instinctively. But he now passing them by with an air of the utmost indifference, and apparently without observing them, hastily exclaimed: “I have seen Chanlouineau. Be of good cheer: he promises to save the baron!”
XVII.
WITHIN the limits of the citadel of Montaignac stands an old building known as the chapel. Originally consecrated to purposes of worship, this structure had, at the time of which we write, fallen into disuse. It was so damp that it could not even be utilized for storage purposes, and yet this was the place selected by the Duke de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu for the assembling of the military commission. When Maurice and the abbe entered this gloomy building they found that the proceedings had not yet commenced. The little trouble taken to transform the old chapel into a hall of justice impressed them sadly, for it testified beyond power of mistake to the precipitation of the judges, and revealed their determination to carry out the work of vengeance without either delay or mercy. Three large tables taken from a soldier’s mess-room, and covered with horse blankets instead of baize, stood on a raised platform formerly occupied by the chief altar. Behind these tables were ranged a few rush-seated chairs, waiting the president’s assessors, and in their midst glittered a richly-carved and gilt arm chair which his grace had had sent from his own house for his personal accommodation. In front of the tables three or four long wooden benches had been placed in readiness for the prisoners, while several strong ropes were stretched from one wall to the other, so as to divide the chapel into two parts and allow considerable room for the public. This last precaution had proved quite superfluous, for, contrary to expectation, there were not twenty persons in the building. Prominent among these were ten or twelve men of martial mien, but clad in civilian attire. Their scarred and weather beaten features testified to many an arduous campaign fought in imperial times; and indeed they had all served Napoleon—this one as a lieutenant, that other as a captain—but the Restoration had dismissed them with scanty pensions and given their well-earned commissions to cadets of the old nobility. Their pale faces and the sullen fire gleaming in their eyes showed plainly enough what they thought of the Duke de Sairmeuse’s proceedings. In addition to these retired officers there were three men dressed in professional black who stood conversing in low tones near the chapel door; while in a corner one could perceive several peasant women with their aprons thrown over their faces; they were the mothers, wives, and daughters of some of the imprisoned rebels. Save for their constant sobs the silence would have been well-nigh undisturbed.
Nine o’clock had just struck when a rolling of drums shook the window panes; a loud voice was heard outside exclaiming, “Present arms!” and then the members of the commission entered, followed by the Marquis de Courtornieu and various civil functionaries. The Duke de Sairmeuse was in full uniform, his face rather more flushed, and his air a trifle more haughty than usual. “The sitting is open!” he announced, and adding in a rough voice, “Bring in the culprits.”
They came in, one by one, to the number of thirty, and sat themselves down on the benches at the foot of the platform. Chanlouineau held his head proudly erect, and looked about him with an air of great composure. The Baron d’Escorval was calm and grave; but not more so than when, in days gone by, he had been called upon to express his opinion in the councils of the empire. Both of them perceived Maurice, who was so overcome that he had to lean upon the abbe for support. But while the baron greeted his son with a simple bend of the head, Chanlouineau made a gesture that clearly signified: “Have confidence in me—fear nothing.” The attitude of the other prisoners indicated surprise rather than fear. Perhaps they were unconscious of the peril they had braved, and the extent of the danger that now threatened them.
When the prisoners had taken their places, a colonel who filled the office of commissary for the prosecution rose to his feet. His presentation of the case was violent but brief. He narrated a few leading facts, exalted the merits of the government of his majesty King Louis XVIIIth, and concluded by demanding that sentence of death should be pronounced upon the culprits. When he had ceased speaking, the duke rudely bade the first prisoner on the nearest bench to stand up and give his name, age, and profession.