"I vote that he be made the head of the Republic."
"Sergeant Radoub, do you, or do you not, vote for Captain Gauvain's acquittal? Yes, or no?"
"I vote that you behead me in his place."
"Acquittal," said Cimourdain. "Write it down, clerk."
Then the clerk announced,—
"One vote for death, one for acquittal: a tie."
It was Cimourdain's turn to vote.
He rose, took off his hat, and placed it on the table. He was no longer pale or livid; his face was the color of clay.
Had every man present been lying in his shroud, the silence could not have been more profound.
In solemn, measured tones Cimourdain said,—