“Yes, yes! bravo! very good!”

“Born, on the contrary, in troublesome times, and amid the storm of unchained passions, Danton was better constituted than others to kindle the flame of that atmosphere of fire.  Danton was the torch that fired; his scarlet glare lent itself only too readily to scenes of blood and horror which I must not recall.  But, they said, the national independence was at stake, traitors and dissemblers must be awed,—­in a word, a cruel and awful sacrifice was necessary for the public weal.  Messieurs, I do not accept that theory.  To kill, without the necessity demonstrated a score of times of legitimate defence, to kill women, children, prisoners, unarmed men, was a crime,—­a crime, look at it how you will, that was execrable; those who ordered it, those who consented to it, those who executed it are, to my mind, deserving of the same reprobation.”

I wish I could give you an idea, madame, of the tone and expression of Sallenauve as he uttered this anathema.  You know how his face is transfigured when an ardent thought comes into his mind.  The assemblage was mute and gloomy.  Evidently he had wounded their sensibilities; but, under the curb of his powerful hand, it dared not throw up its head.

“But,” he continued, “to all consummated and irreparable crimes there are two issues,—­repentance and expiation.  His repentance Danton did not utter,—­he was too proud a man,—­but he acted it.  He was the first, to the sound of that axe falling without pity and without respite,—­the first, at the risk of his own head being the next victim,—­to call for a ‘committee of mercy.’  It was the sure, the infallible means of bringing him to expiation; and you all know whether, when that day of expiation came, he quailed before it.  Passing through death,—­won by his courageous effort to stop the effusion of blood,—­it may be truly said that the face and the memory of Danton have washed off the bloody stain which September put upon them.  Committed, at the age of thirty-five, to the judgment of posterity, Danton has left us the memory of a great intellect, a strong and powerful character, noble private qualities, more than one generous action,—­all derived from his own being; whereas the bloody errors he committed were the contagion of his epoch.  In a word, with men of his quality, unjust would be the justice which does not temper itself with mercy.  And here, messieurs, you have in your midst—­better than you, better than I, better than all orators and historians—­a woman who has weighed and understood Danton, and who says to the pitiless, with the impulse of her charity, ’He has gone to God; let us pray for him.’”

The trap thus avoided by this happy allusion to Mother Marie-des-Anges, and the assembly evidently satisfied, it might be supposed that the candidate had come to the end of his baiting.  The colonel was even preparing to pass to the vote, when several electors sprang up, declaring that two important explanations were still required from the candidate.  He had said that he should ever be found an obstacle to all attempts of the royal power to subvert our institutions.  What did he mean by such resistance?  Was it armed resistance, the resistance of riots and barricades?