"Stand back!" he shouted wildly, as the officers endeavored to seize him. He drew an object quickly from his pocket.
"Take care, Jean. He has a weapon," cried one.
There was a report of a pistol, and the marquis fell forward to the floor.
A murmur of horror filled the prison hall. Women fainted, and men turned away their heads. The gendarmes hastened to bend over him.
"I believe he is dead, captain," said one after a brief examination.
"Carry him out with the others just the same," ordered the captain. "Pierre, continue with the list."
"Bertrand de Tourin."
"Here."
"Adèle de Bellœil."
There was a cry of joy in the answer:—