"I was promised life—I told all I knew—there is a mistake. Ask! Let me wait until to-morrow—for God's sake let me wait until to-morrow!"
Latour looked at the frightened wretch who was literally thrown into the tumbril after him, but the expression on his face did not change; he did not speak.
The man continued to cry out until the tumbrils started, then with a wail of despair he fell on his knees, shaking in every limb, chattering to himself, whether oaths or prayers who shall say?
The tumbrils moved forward slowly.
The wretch upon his knees seemed to realize suddenly that he was not alone. He looked up into the face of the man beside him. Then rose slowly and touched him.
"Latour."
There was no answer, no turning of the head even.
"Latour. So this is how we meet at last."
There were crowds in the streets, yelling crowds. He spoke clearly so that the man might hear him, but there was no answer.
"Raymond Latour—Latour—this is how we meet, both damned and betrayed for the sake of a woman."