And now De Mouchy spoke. "Monsieur De Ganache, do you recognise the prisoners there?"
De Ganache followed his glance; a shiver went through him, and as he looked a red flush mounted to his forehead. Never had I seen a man look so before, and, thank God! never after. Unspeakable shame and hopeless despair were sealed upon his face. His lips grew livid, and twice the question was repeated ere he forced himself to answer.
"Yes."
I held my breath and listened. What did this mean? Ferrières still lay back in his semi-trance, oblivious of all things; but mademoiselle moved forward and looked at De Ganache, ineffable pity in her eyes. And now came the next question.
"They are known to you as Christaudins?"
One glance at mademoiselle and De Ganache shrank back; but her voice rang out clear and sweet, for she, with all of us, mistook the reason of De Ganache's terrible emotion.
"Deny it not, De Ganache! Be not afraid."
But with a cry De Ganache put his hands to his face and turned aside. A woman began to sob amongst the spectators, and someone dropped a sword with an angry clash on the parquet. Once more the strident voices of the ushers arose, and after a little silence was restored.
De Mouchy was about to put yet another question when La Valentinois interposed.
"It is enough," she said; "I but wanted to confront them. Let him have his reward."