We have explained that Danton took little part in the Government after the repelling of the foreign foe and the commencement of the Terror. He had no sympathy with the excesses of his former colleagues, but on the other hand was subject to strange lassitudes or inhibitions that oft paralyzed his spirit except at the supreme hour.

Saving France had been his real job.

Among these petty and mean minds seeking power or pelf or the repayment of some ancient grudge, Danton had nothing to do! He loved his frontier fighters––men who, the same as himself, dared all for France.

They were somewhat like our cowboys of the Western plains. Born to the saddle; recruited for the northern cavalry; supremely successful in whirlwind charges and harassing flank attacks that drove back Brunswick’s legions, they were now quartered on well-deserved furlough within the city.

The old lion of Danton’s nature woke again, his indomitable spirit reasserted itself whenever he went to their yard and roused them by his patriotic eloquence.

Alas! within the tribunal and on the execution place at the other side of the city, was that going on which shamed patriotism and mocked liberty.

“La Guillotine”––that fiendish beheading instrument that a deputy named Doctor Guillotin had devised––was become Robespierre’s private engine to tyrannize France.

It stood in a great suburban place, on a scaffolding led up to by a flight of steps: a tall massive upright with high cross piece––uglier than the gallows. A brightly gleaming, triangular knife, about the size of a ploughshare, worked up and down in the channels.

The knife was first raised to the top of the upright, and held there by a lever. The master of the ceremonial raised right hand in token to the executioners to be ready.

As he dropped his hand in a down-sweeping gesture, one of these villains pulled the rope which released the lever. Down fell the heavy knife across the neck opening of a body board to which the victim was strapped. 162 Below the contraption was a huge basket.

A cordon of soldiery guarded the place, keeping back the crowds. The brawny executioners––naked to the waist, like butchers in a stockyard––daily performed their office.

On this day of Henriette and Maurice’s sentence, they were giving it a preliminary trial. “The trigger’s been slipping––not working well,” the head fellow explained to the master of ceremonies. Back and forth the terrible guillotine knife hissed and whistled until they pronounced its action perfect....

Danton and three of his friends had an errand at the Government that day that took them past the death chamber. A little frightened face amongst the condemned drew his notice.

“Killing aristocrats, yes!” he was thinking. “But these poor huddled folk are not the public foe. Would I might summon the legions to put an end to slaughter––but that Robespierre has inflamed all France with the lust of blood!”

He was startled from the reflection by the woe-begone, distrait little thing who 163 seemed hypnotized by terror. The tall man bent down and peered at the girl.

Like the other condemned, her hands had just been pinioned behind her. She stood forlorn and helpless.

Horror froze him.... The Child who had saved his life from the spadassins––the dear little face the memory of which he had always treasured! He asked her a mute question, she mutely nodded.

So black-hearted murder was to snuff her out too––yes, and that young man nearby, Maurice de Vaudrey whom he knew.

Not if Danton could protect and save!

Stern was his voice as he said to the jailer:

“There is some mistake. Keep her––and her friend––until I return!” He was on his heel and striding to the courtroom.

A follower sensed his purpose. He laid hand on Danton’s shoulder, saying: “No, Danton––you endanger your own life!”

“What if I do? She must be saved.”

As we see him pass into the Tribunal, let us stop for a moment and watch the procedure in the death chamber. Outside, the tumbrils of death clatter up to receive their load. A functionary calls the names 164 of the condemned whilst a court officer identifies them. Each in turn is bundled off to the carts. The men hesitate over Henriette and Maurice.

“The ex-Minister of Justice,” said one, “asked that this case be delayed.”

“Her name is here,” said the master functionary, a creature of the Dictator. “She goes––”

“We might as well take the other too,” said the court officer, pointing to de Vaudrey....

Superbly the Lion of the Revolution faced the judges and the mob, and demanded a hearing. Robespierre uplifted eyebrows and half-smiled, vulpinely. His rapid exchange of looks with the Court seemed to say: “Well, we have got to listen to this crazy man, but be on guard!”

The president, Jacques-Forget-Not, took the cue and acceded to Danton’s request.

“A great injustice has been done,” cried Danton, “to the innocent and helpless. I ask the lives of Henriette Girard and Citizen de Vaudrey!”

The judges did not need to answer.

A savage cry of “No! No!” swelled from the infuriated “Mountain.”

The sansculottes half rose from their benches, shaking minatory fists, yelling, gesticulating. Faces were contorted in fury. The mob––the same that had once acclaimed Danton in chair of state––was not to be balked of blood.

The orator continued: “These sufferers are friends of you who demand their death. The girl once saved me––the organizer of your victory––from spadassins. The boy was ever known as the people’s benefactor––I have seen him buy loaves to keep you from starving! Now through trumped-up charges they are to be hurried away to death––”

“You question the justice of the people’s Tribunal?” interrupted Judge Forget-Not shrilly, with obvious play at the mob.

“Hell’s bells!” replied the indignant Thunderer. “I established this Tribunal. Did not I as Minister of Justice set it in being, and shall I not speak when crimes are done in its name!”

... In the death chamber Henriette and Maurice were trying to kiss each other good-by. The guards had separated them. 166 Vaudrey was going in one death cart, Henriette in another....

He had silenced the querulous Forget-Not, was waking the echoes with the same thunders that had nerved France to resist the foe. “I ask for their lives not only, but for MERCY and JUSTICE to wipe out the tyranny and cruelty that are befouling all of us. I ask for a regenerated nation, purged of these vile offences.”

Robespierre was sinisterly serious now.

The group of judges sat amazed.

“Give Danton a hearing!” was the murmur among the sansculottes, half awed by his old witchery.

The impassioned orator swung upon them, his old supporters.

“My heart––my brain––my soul––my very life! Do they mean anything to you––to France?”

“YES! YES!” shouted the answering mob, caught by the personal appeal.

Alarmed at the swiftly changing tide, the Chief Judge sought the Dictator’s eye. The orator’s eyes were far away, his frame was convulsed by emotion as he cried: “My very life––everything––I owe to one of these victims!” The mob identified its cause with Danton’s, submerged their personalities with his own!

Robespierre answered Forget-Not’s look. He indicated the speaker by a slight motion of the head, then drew his right hand across the throat, played with the lace ruffles––and smiled! Forget-Not understood. Not then––but later, only a little later––would come the time to snuff out this disturber!

Danton turned from the mob, swinging the peroration to the judges in the one impassioned cry of “JUSTICE!” Lion-like he glanced from those mean, denying souls to the rabble, and held out his hands.

Like an avalanche, the “Mountain” swept down from benches to hall and on, on toward the judges. Murder was in their eyes. A word from the Thunderer would have sealed Forget-Not’s fate.

“His wish! Give Danton his wish!” they roared.

Like a monkey the man Forget-Not leaped and cowered behind his bar, imploring Robespierre for a sign. The Dictator nodded to yield. But again was there not the very slightest motion of hand past neck, the eyes side-glancing at the Thunderer?

Danton stilled the tempest as Chief Judge 168 Forget-Not wrote the reprieve and the other affrighted Judges confirmed it.

... Outside, the tumbrils were already on their way to the guillotine. Henrietta and de Vaudrey were approaching the gates of death....