"La voila," said he, archly, as he pointed with his thumb to the wooden effigy of Liberty above his head.
The absurdity of the suggestion was more than enough for its success. A dozen hands were speedily at work, and down came the Goddess of Liberty! The other details of an execution were hurried over with all the speed of practiced address, and the figure was placed beneath the drop. Down fell the ax, and Gougon, lifting up the wooden head, paraded it about the scaffold, crying,
"Behold! an enemy of France. Long live the republic, one and 'indivisible.'"
Loud and wild were the shouts of laughter from this brutal mockery; and for a time it almost seemed as if the ribaldry had turned the mob from the sterner passions of their vengeance. This hope, if one there ever cherished it, was short-lived; and again the cry arose for blood. It was too plain, that no momentary diversion, no passing distraction, could withdraw them from that lust for cruelty, that had now grown into a passion.
And now a bustle and movement of those around the stairs showed that something was in preparation; and in the next moment the old marquise was led forward between two men.
"Where is the order for this woman's execution?" asked the dwarf, mimicking the style and air of the commissary.
"We give it: it is from us," shouted the mob, with one savage roar.
Gougon removed his cap, and bowed a token of obedience.
"Let us proceed in order, messieurs," said he, gravely; "I see no priest here."
"Shrive her yourself, Gougon; few know the mummeries better!" cried a voice.