Max was led away. Indignation at the brutality of the Prussian was strong within him, and he held his head erect, and answered look for look the hostile glances of those about him. The hot blood still coursed through his veins, and the sacrifice he had made did not loom over large in his imagination.
It was not until he had been conducted to a gloomy, ill-lit room in the basement of the building, and there left in solitude to think and think upon his impending fate, that things grew different, and his fortitude partially left him. The end seemed so merciless and hard, and, leaning heavily against the wall, he fell a prey to unhappy reflections. At times he went farther than this, and shed a few furtive tears at this end to all his hopes and secret boyish ambitions.
Shortly after Max had been led away to his cell, the thirty-nine workmen were released. No reason was vouchsafed for this sudden change of front, but the curt notice already affixed to the gates of the governor's palace soon supplied it. Max Durend had been taken, and found guilty of the deed for which they had been seized, and he was to pay the penalty.
M. Dubec was one of the men released, and at the news he hurried home. Naturally his wife was overjoyed at seeing him, but he was too preoccupied by doubt and concern at the fate of his master's son to stay with her more than a few minutes. From his home he hurried to the lodging of Max and Dale, and at the door met the latter coming slowly out. One glance at his face was enough to tell even M. Dubec that he knew of his friend's terrible position.
"You have seen the notice, sir?" he asked.
"No, I have seen no notice," replied Dale heavily. "I do not want to know of any notice, thank you, Dubec."
"But you know of Monsieur Max——?"
"Yes."
"Then you must have heard from him or seen him taken. I first knew by the notice on the gates of the palace."