“You know as well as I do myself, sir, that I have had no hand in this conspiracy.”
“Why, you were arrested in the ranks of the conspirators with weapons in your hands!”
“I was unarmed, as you are well aware; and if I was among the peasantry, it was only because I hoped to induce them to relinquish their senseless enterprise.”
The baron paled beneath the insult, but he made no response. There was, however, one man in the assemblage who could no longer endure such abominable injustice, and this was the Abbe Midon, who, only a moment before, had advised Maurice to remain calm. Abruptly leaving his place, he advanced to the foot of the platform.
“The Baron d’Escorval speaks the truth,” he cried, in a ringing voice: “as each of the three hundred prisoners in the citadel will swear. Those who are here would say the same, even if they stood upon the guillotine; and I, who accompanied him, who walked beside him, I, a priest, swear before the God who one day will judge us all, Monsieur de Sairmeuse, I swear we did everything that was humanly possible to do to arrest this movement!”
The duke listened with an ironical smile. “I was not deceived, then,” he answered, “when I was told that this army of rebels had a chaplain! Ah! sir, you should sink to the earth with shame. What! You, a priest, mingle with such scoundrels as these--with these enemies of our good king and of our holy religion! Do not deny it! Your haggard features, your swollen eyes, your disordered attire, plainly betray your guilt. Must I, a soldier, remind you of what is due to your sacred calling? Hold your peace, sir, and depart!”
But the prisoner’s advocates were on their feet. “We demand,” cried they, “we demand that this witness be heard. He must be heard! Military commissions are not above the laws that regulate ordinary tribunals.”
“If I do not speak the truth,” resumed the abbe, “I am a perjured witness--worse yet, an accomplice. It is your duty, in that case, to have me arrested.”
The duke’s face assumed a look of hypocritical compassion. “No, Monsieur le Cure,” said he, “I shall not arrest you. I wish to avert the scandal which you are trying to cause. We will show your priestly garb the respect the wearer does not deserve. Again, and for the last time, retire, or I shall be obliged to employ force.”