“All?” cried Grandmaison, aghast. “But according to the list there should have been nearer two hundred.” And he raised his voice to call: “Goullin! Hola, Goullin! Where the devil is Goullin?”
“The list,” Laqueze told him, “was drawn up from the register. But you have not noted that many have died since they came--we have had the fever here--and that a few are now in hospital.”
“In hospital! Bah! Go up, some of you, and fetch them. We are taking them somewhere where they will be cured.” And then he hailed the elegant Goullin, who came up wrapped in a cloak. “Here's a fine bathing-party!” he grumbled. “A rare hundred of these swine!”
“What have you done with the fifteen brigands I sent you this evening?”
“But they only reached Nantes to-day,” said Laqueze, who understood nothing of these extraordinary proceedings. “They have not yet been registered, not even examined.”
“I asked you what you have done with them?” snapped Goullin.
“Then fetch them. They are as good as any others.”
With these, and a dozen or so dragged from sick-beds, the total was made up to about a hundred and thirty.
The Marats, further reinforced now by half a company of National Guards, set out from the prison towards five o'clock in the morning; urging their victims along with blows and curses.
Our cocassier found himself bound wrist to wrist with a young Capuchin brother, who stumbled along in patient resignation, his head bowed, his lips moving as if he were in prayer.
“Can you guess what they are going to do with us?” murmured Leroy.
He caught the faint gleam of the Capuchin's eyes in the gloom.
“I do not know, brother. Commend yourself to God, and so be prepared for whatever may befall.”
The answer was not very comforting to a man of Leroy's temperament. He stumbled on, and they came now upon the Place du Bouffay, where the red guillotine loomed in ghostly outline, and headed towards the Quai Tourville. Thence they were marched by the river the whole length of the Quai La Fosse. Fear spreading amongst them, some clamours were raised, to be instantly silenced by blows and assurances that they were to be shipped to Belle Isle, where they were to be set to work to build a fort.
The cocassier thought this likely enough, and found it more comforting than saying his prayers--a trick which he had long since lost.