The man Forget-not, directly the paper was signed, rushed past the speaker and out of the hall into the lobbies. He was followed presently by the Court’s messenger. There was here some trickery or other that Danton sensed.

He could not stop the Chief Judge leaving, but he pounced on the messenger and yanked the reprieve out of his hand. “I will deliver it!” said Danton. The people applauded the act. Everyone knew that he dared greatly.

Quick as he had been, Jacques-Forget-Not had already given his orders.

“Stop Danton if you can!” had been Jacques’ word to the outer guard. To his inspectors of defences, he had said: “The barriers to the guillotine––close them!” He ran forth to see that the orders were obeyed. None of Robespierre’s party wanted to see Danton achieve his errand of mercy––least of all, the vengeful Jacques-Forget-Not!....

The pock-marked Thunderer wasn’t stopped beyond the door. His giant strength threw off the minions who would have blocked him. He hastened to the yard where his beloved troopers were quartered.

Henriette and Maurice’s route lay past an obscene and sacrilegious rite.

Mocking at religion, the more fanatical had thrown off every vestige of decency and indulged in Bacchanalian worship of a so-called “Goddess of Reason.” This was a lewd female from the Paris half-world, flower-chapleted, flimsily draped, prancing in drunken frenzy atop a table surrounded by her “worshippers.”

The Feast of Reason included hundreds of revelers grouped around the open-air tables for the “supper of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity,” and between long lines of these they were obliged to pass.

“Drink a toast to the Goddess!” cried the revelers, offering the winecup to the victims.

“Curses on them!” said others. “Death is too good for vile aristocrats.”

“Tra-la-la-la!” sang drunken wenches, 171 “La Guillotine will soon hold ye in her sharp embrace––”

The blasphemy of burlesquing a far greater Scene of Sorrows occurred to drunken Carmagnole dancers. The notion was applauded, carried into effect at once.

A tall sansculotte reached over betwixt the guards and placed a Crown of Thorns on the girl’s brow. Another dashed a cupful of vinegar in the girl’s face.

“Can’t you see she’s helpless?” said a centurion, pointing to her pinioned arms. He yanked off the chaplet and threw it back in the crowd. They roared with merriment at the farce....

But, in the stable yard of the Northern cavalry, Danton from a horseblock was addressing the fiery spirits who knew and loved him.

“Will you dare with Danton?” he cried. “Will you risk Death to open a Nation’s eyes?”

The head Cavalryman embraced the Thunderer and kissed him on both cheeks.

“We are with you to the last man––to the last ounce of our strength to save this girl and boy!” he said while the others cheered.

Danton had got a gallant white mount, the Captain was on a noble black Arabian charger; the others had leaped astride their ever ready army steeds––the ride with the reprieve was in full course!