"Citizen judges, I place this prisoner at your bar. Question him that the citizen jurors may decide upon his fate."
It was Coursegol, who, hearing Dolores condemned, had suddenly resolved not to survive her, but to die with her.
"Unfortunate man!" murmured the young girl, and for the first time that morning her eyes filled with tears.
Coursegol looked at her as if to ask if she thought him worthy of her. In answer to the question put by the chief judge, he curtly replied:
"It is useless to seek any other explanation of my conduct than that which I am about to give. I am weary of the horrors which I have witnessed. I hate the Republic and its supporters. I am a Royalist; and I have no other wish than to seal with my blood, the opinions I have here proclaimed.
"Citizen jurors," cried his accuser, angrily; "I ask for this man a punishment which shall be an example to any who may desire to imitate him."
"He is mad!" objected one of the jurors.
"No, I am not mad!" cried Coursegol. "Down with the Republic and long live the King!"
There was such boldness in this defiance that a profound stillness made itself felt in the crowded hall. Judges and jurors conferred together in wrathful whispers. In a few moments, Coursegol was condemned to suffer death upon the guillotine for having been guilty of the heinous crime of insulting the court in the exercise of its functions, and of uttering seditious words in its presence. Then he approached Dolores. She was sobbing violently, entirely overcome by this scene which had moved her much more deeply than her own misfortunes.
"Forgive me, mademoiselle," said he, "for being so bold as to resolve not to survive you; but even in death, my place is beside you."