"And the Tribunal?"
"Impressive. The people were awed. The judge pronounced an eloquent harangue,—they always do." He flung out his arm and repeated sarcastically: "'Victim of the law, could you but read the hearts of your judges you would find them crushed and saddened. Go to your death courageously. The Nation demands from you nothing but a sincere repentance.'"
"That's well put!"
"Repentance—and your head!" Goursac amended sarcastically. "What an absurdity!"
"Not at all," retorted Barabant, disciple of Rousseau and the sentimentalists. "The Nation mourning and forgiving its enemies, even when pronouncing sentence, is a spectacle, I say, that is sublime."
"Bah! What good is sentiment when you lack a head? No, no. These grandiloquent harangues of mercy and advice disgust me. They are nothing but self-advertisement. If I were a judge, I'd say:
"'Collenot, my friend, the Nation has proved you guilty; I pronounce upon you sentence of death; for further details consult Monsieur de Paris. Bon voyage!'"
"And the guillotine, Citoyen Goursac: do you find it insincere to despatch an enemy with the least pain?"
"Ah, the guillotine! There is a tremendous advance in human thought!" Goursac exclaimed, without deigning to open an argument. "There is something to be proud of. I foresee great innovations from this simple invention. To have learned to suppress human life painlessly is a true sentimental advance. We shall go further."
Barabant, seeing that he was started on his theories, said good-humoredly: