But now all the fabric of the carefully spun scheme had been blown roughly aside by one puff of adverse wind.
Once in the conciergerie, a prisoner was not kept in uncertainty for any length of time. The next day after his transfer Tournay was summoned for trial. At first he attempted to defend himself with all the eloquence which the justice of his case called forth. All the fire of his nature was aroused, and as he spoke the attention of the crowded court room was held as if by a spell. Murmurs of applause rose from the multitude, even among those who had come in the hope of seeing him judged guilty.
But upon his judges he made no visible effect. They refused to call his witnesses. They suppressed the applause, and cutting short his defense hastened to conclude his trial. Tournay saw the futility of his defense. He read the verdict in the eyes of the judges, and sat down.
After the verdict had been given he was taken back to the conciergerie, "sentenced to die within eight and forty hours."
"Oh, for a month of freedom!" he cried inwardly, as he reëntered the prison. "For one short month of liberty! After that time had passed I would submit to any death uncomplainingly."
Withdrawing to the further end of the corridor where he was permitted to walk for a short time, he sat down by a rough table where some of the lighter-hearted prisoners had, in earlier days, beguiled the time at cards. Here he rested his head upon his arm and sat motionless.
Then his thoughts returned to Edmé, or rather continued to dwell upon her, for no matter what he did or spoke or thought, no matter how absorbing the occupation of the hour, she was always in his mind, the consciousness of her presence was ever in his heart.
"Oh, for one little month of liberty," he cried aloud, "to make one attempt to rescue France, and to see you, Edmé, once again!" He rose from his seat with a gesture of despair, and turning, saw her standing there before him. He stood in silence, looking at her as if she were the creation of his fancy, stepped for a moment from the shadow of the gray walls to melt into nothingness, should he, by speaking, break the spell.
She came toward him, putting her finger to her lips as a sign of caution. "Speak low," she whispered, "lest they hear you!"
"Mademoiselle de Rochefort," he replied in a low voice, "is this really you? In God's name tell me how you come to be here?"