Part 168 (1/2)

”Maitre,” said he, ”do us the kindness to stop a moment opposite the Rue Tizon.”

Caboche nodded in a.s.sent, and drew rein at the place indicated.

Aided by Coconnas, La Mole raised himself with an effort, and with eyes blinded by tears gazed at the small house, silent and mute, deserted as a tomb. A groan burst from him, and in a low voice he murmured:

”Adieu, adieu, youth, love, life!”

And his head fell forward on his breast.

”Courage,” said Coconnas; ”we may perhaps find all this above.”

”Do you think so?” murmured La Mole.

”I think so, because the priest said so; and above all, because I hope so. But do not faint, my friend, or these staring wretches will laugh at us.”

Caboche heard the last words and whipping his horse with one hand he extended the other, unseen by any one, to Coconnas. It contained a small sponge saturated with a powerful stimulant, and La Mole, after smelling it and rubbing his forehead with it, felt himself revived and reanimated.

”Ah!” said La Mole, ”I am better,” and he kissed the reliquary, which he wore around his neck.

As they turned a corner of the quay and reached the small edifice built by Henry II. they saw the scaffold rising bare and b.l.o.o.d.y on its platform above the heads of the crowd.

”Dear friend,” said La Mole, ”I wish I might be the first to die.”

Coconnas again touched the hangman's shoulder.

”What is it, my gentleman?” said the latter, turning around.

”My good fellow,” said Coconnas, ”you will do what you can for me, will you not? You said you would.”

”Yes, and I repeat it.”

”My friend has suffered more than I and consequently has less strength”--

”Well?”

”Well, he says that it would cause him too much pain to see me die first. Besides, if I were to die before him he would have no one to support him on the scaffold.”

”Very well,” said Caboche, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand; ”be easy, it shall be as you wish.”

”And with one blow, eh?” said the Piedmontese in a low tone.

”With one blow.”

”That is well. If you have to make up for it, make up on me.”

The tumbril stopped. They had arrived. Coconnas put on his hat.

A murmur like that of the waves at sea reached the ears of La Mole. He strove to rise, but strength failed him. Caboche and Coconnas supported him under the arms.

The place was paved with heads; the steps of the Hotel de Ville seemed an amphitheatre peopled with spectators. Each window was filled with animated faces, the eyes of which seemed on fire.