the judgment

the prisoner was a young man of twenty-two or three years of age, who resembled a woman rather than a man, so slender and fair was he. he was bareheaded and in his shirt sleeves, with pantaloons and boots. the companion had seized him in his cell just as he was and had hurried him away without allowing him an instant's reflection.

his first thought had been that he was rescued. these men who had entered his cell were beyond question companions of jehu; that is to say, they were men who held the same opinions and belonged to the same band as himself. but when he found that they had bound his hands, and when he saw their eyes flashing angrily through their masks, he realized that he had fallen into hands far more terrible than those of his judges—the hands of those whom he had betrayed—and that he could hope for nothing from comrades whom he had been willing to denounce.

on the way he had not asked a single question and no one had spoken to him. the first words he heard from the lips of his judges were the ones they had just pronounced. he was very pale, but this pallor was the only sign of emotion he displayed.

at morgan's command the pretended monks crossed the[pg 403] cloister. the prisoner walked first between two of them, each holding a pistol in his hand.

the cloister crossed, they passed into the garden. this procession of the twelve marching silently along in the darkness had something terrifying about it. they approached the door of the subterranean vault. one of the two who were walking with the prisoner raised a stone, disclosing a ring beneath it, by means of which he lifted a flagstone which concealed the entrance to a staircase.

the prisoner hesitated a moment, so closely did the entrance of the vault resemble that of a tomb. the two monks who walked beside him descended first; then from a groove in the stone they took two torches which had been placed there for those who might have occasion to enter the vault. they struck a light, kindled the torches, and uttered the one word: "descend!"

the prisoner obeyed. the monks disappeared to the last man in the vault. they walked on for several moments until they reached a grating; one of the monks drew a key from his pocket and opened the grating. it led into a burial vault.

the whole subterranean chapel stood at the end of the vault, which the companions of jehu used for their council-chamber. a table covered with black cloth stood in the centre, and twelve carved stalls, which had formerly been used by the monks when the burial service was being chanted, extended along the wall on either side of the chapel. on the table were placed an ink-stand, several pens, and some paper; two iron brackets projected from the wall, like hands ready to receive the torches which were placed in them.

the twelve monks seated themselves in the twelve stalls. they made the prisoner sit upon a stool at the end of the table; on the other side stood the traveller, the only one who did not wear the monk's cowl and who was not masked.

morgan spoke.

"monsieur lucien de fargas," he said, "was it of your[pg 404] own free will, and without constraint or force from any one, that you asked our brothers in the midi to admit you to our association, and that you became an affiliated member thereof, after the usual initiation under the name of hector?"

the young man bowed assent.

"it was of my own free and unrestrained will, without being forced by any one," he replied.

"you took the customary oaths, and were therefore aware of the terrible punishment awaiting those who prove false to them?"

"i knew," replied the prisoner.

"you knew that when any companion, even under torture, reveals the names of his brethren, he incurs the death-penalty, and that this penalty is executed without reprieve or delay the moment that proof of his treachery is furnished?"

"i knew it."

"what could have induced you to break your oaths?"

"the impossibility of resisting the torture of loss of sleep. i resisted for five nights, on the sixth i asked for death, which was sleep. they would not give it to me. i sought a means to take my own life; but my jailers had taken their precautions so well that i could find none. on the seventh night i yielded. i promised to make disclosures on the morrow if they would let me sleep; but they insisted that i should speak at once. it was then in despair, insane from want of sleep, held up by the two men who prevented me from sleeping, i stammered the four names of m. de valensolles, m. de barjols, m. de jayat, and m. de ribier."

one of the monks drew from his pocket the record which they had taken from the registry, and held it before the prisoner's eyes.

"that is it," said the latter.

"and do you recognize your signature?" asked the monk.

[pg 405]

"i recognize it," replied the young man.

"have you any excuse to offer?" asked the monk.

"none," replied the young man. "i knew when i wrote my signature at the bottom of that page that i was signing my death-warrant. but i wanted to sleep."

"have you any favor to ask before you die?"

"one."

"what is it?"

"i have a sister whom i love and who adores me. being orphans, we were educated together; we grew up side by side, and have never been parted. i should like to write to my sister."

"you are free to do so. but at the end of your letter you must write the postscript that we shall dictate to you."

"thanks," said the young man, rising and bowing.

"will you untie my hands," he added, "so that i may write."

the wish was granted. morgan, who had been the one to question him, pushed the paper, pen, and ink toward him. the young man wrote a page with a hand that did not tremble.

"i have finished, gentlemen," said he; "will you dictate the postscript?"

morgan approached and laid one finger on the paper while the prisoner wrote.

"are you ready?" he asked.

"yes," replied the young man.

"i die because i have broken a sacred oath; consequently i acknowledge that i deserve death. if you wish to give my body christian burial, it will be placed to-night in the market-place at bourg. the dagger which will be found implanted in my breast will indicate that i do not die the victim of cowardly assassination, but of a just vengeance."

morgan then drew from beneath his robe a dagger of which both handle and blade were forged from a single piece of metal. it was shaped in the form of a cross so that[pg 406] the condemned could kiss it in his last moments instead of a crucifix.

"if you wish, sir," said morgan, "we will accord you the favor of striking your own death-blow. here is the dagger. is your hand sure enough?"

the young man pondered an instant. then he said: "no, i fear that i should fail."

"very well," said morgan, "affix the address to your letter."

the young man folded the letter and wrote: "mademoiselle diane de fargas, n?mes."

"now, sir," said morgan, "you have just ten minutes in which to make your peace with god."

the old chapel altar, though mutilated, was still standing. the condemned went to it and knelt down. in the meantime the companions tore a slip of paper into twelve parts, one of which bore the tracing of a dagger. the twelve pieces were then placed in the hat of the messenger who had arrived just in time to witness this act of vengeance. then, before the condemned man had finished his prayers, each monk drew a slip in turn. the one to whom the function of executioner had fallen said never a word; he merely took the dagger from the table and tested the point with his finger. the ten minutes having passed, the young man rose.

"i am ready," he said.

then without hesitation or delay, firm and erect, the monk who had drawn the fatal slip walked straight to him and plunged the dagger into his heart. a cry of agony, then the thud of a body falling upon the pavement, and all was over. the condemned man was dead, the blade of the dagger had pierced his heart.

"thus perish all the members of our holy order who are false to their oaths," said morgan.

and all the monks responded in chorus: "amen!"