Cimourdain continued,—
"Let the first judge cast his vote. Speak, Captain Guéchamp."
Captain Guéchamp seemed unconscious of the presence either of Gauvain or Cimourdain. His eyes, riveted upon the placard of the decree, as if he were absorbed in the contemplation of an abyss, were hidden by his downcast lids. He said:—
"The law is clearly defined. The judge is more and less than a man,—less than a man, inasmuch as he has no heart; more than a man, in that he wields the sword. In the year 414 of the building of the city of Rome, Manlius put his son to death because he gained a victory without waiting for orders. That infraction of discipline required an expiation. Here, the law has been violated; and the law stands higher than discipline. A man has been overcome by the emotion of pity, and the country is once more endangered. Pity may rise to the level of a crime. Commander Gauvain has connived at the escape of the rebel Lantenac. Gauvain is guilty. I vote for death."
"Write it down, clerk," said Cimourdain.
The clerk wrote, "Captain Guéchamp: death."
Gauvain said in a firm voice,—
"Guéchamp, you have voted well; I thank you."
Cimourdain continued,—
"It is the turn of the second judge. Speak, Sergeant Radoub."