1

The cell bore the traces of the struggles which had just taken place there. The table was upset, the papers flying about the cell, the chairs broken. Lally himself was stretched on the bed, bruised and his clothes torn to tatters. Blood was flowing from two deep gashes on his face. A groan, which was more like a threatening cry than an expression of pain, issued from his throat, in spite of the gag, and from time to time he shook his long white hair as a lion shakes his mane. All the persons present were still under the impression of the fray; some were trembling and affected, others were irritated. When the magistrate who had ordered Lally to be gagged saw Charles Henri Sanson, he turned to him, exclaiming, in a loud and rough voice: 'And now this is your business!'

The prisoner heard him, and he scanned the executioner. He also, most probably, remembered the night he had spent in the Rue d'Enfer.

Charles Henri was about to order his assistants to take up the prisoner and carry him down when his father stepped forward, saying that he alone had a right to command. He knelt down before Lally, and, perceiving that the cords were so tight that they almost entered the flesh, he ordered the assistants to slacken them. Lally's eyes then turned to the old executioner. He recognised him, for a smile came to his face, and a tear to his eye. When, after traversing the immense crowd which filled the streets, the executioner's cart reached the Place de Grève, the prisoner had to stop for a moment to hear his sentence read to him. When the

clerk of the Court came to the words, 'for betraying the interests of the King, Lally pushed him away, and would hear no more. One could see in his face how much he suffered at being prevented from protesting against the charges brought against him. Supported by Jean-Baptiste, he ascended the scaffold with a firm and light step. When he reached the platform he cast a proud look at the crowd below-a look, my grandfather told us, which was more eloquent than anything he could have said. He then turned to the old executioner. Jean-Baptiste Sanson showed him his withered arm, and pointing to his son who was standing at the other end of the scaffold so as to conceal the sight of the sword from the unfortunate Lally, he said that he was too old to strike, and that his promise must be discharged by a stronger arm and steadier hand than his.

Lally thanked him by an inclination of the head. Charles Henri Sanson now approached, and he was about to raise his sword when old Jean-Baptiste stopped him. With a firm hand, he took the gag out of the Count's mouth, and bowing respectfully: 'Monsieur le Comte,' he said, 'I am the master here. As it happened thirty-five years ago, you are my guest. Accept the supreme hospitality which I then promised you. You can speak if you like.'

'I have spoken enough to men,' answered Lally; 'I have now to speak with God.' And he begun in a loud voice a prayer which I faithfully transcribe, such as my grandfather wrote it out from memory after the execution :

'Oh Lord, You see that I am innocent of the crimes ascribed to me; but I sinned against You when I attempted to destroy myself, and for this I am justly punished. I receive from the hands of this man, placed in my way by Your unfathomable Providence, the death that I wished to inflict upon myself. I bless You, in Your justice, for You will avenge my memory and punish the real traitors.'

After pronouncing these words in a very distinct voice, Lally asked Charles Henri Sanson to come forward.

'Young man,' he said, 'free me of these bonds.'

'Monsieur le Comte, your hands must remain bound behind your back.'

'Is it, then, necessary to tie my hands in order to cut off my head? I have seen death often enough as near as now, and do they think I am going to, resist? '

'Monsieur le Comte, it is the custom.'

'Then help me to take off this vest and give it to your father.'

Charles Henri obeyed, and took off the vest, which was made of a valuable golden tissue of India. Each button was a large ruby of the finest water. After this, the Count laid his head on the block, and said, with nervous animation :

'And now, you can strike!'

Charles Henri raised his weapon, and let it fall on the old man's neck. But the hair, which had not been cut, but only raised, obstructed the blade, and the head did not fall.

The blow was so violent that Lally was struck down to the earth. But he sprang to his feet in a moment, and he glared at Jean-Baptiste Sanson with a lamentable expression of indignation and reproach.

At this sight, the old executioner rushed towards his son, and, suddenly recovering his former strength, he took the bloody sword from his hands, and before the cry of horror which rose from the crowd subsided, Lally's head was rolling on the scaffold.

The old nobleman's last prayer was partly granted. The trial of the Count de Lally-Tollendal was revised and his memory was solemnly rehabilitated.

131

CHAPTER XIII.

THE CHEVALIER DE LA BARRE.

AFTER rusting for seven-and-thirty years, the political scaffold had just been erected again for Lally-Tollendal; and the sword of justice had scarcely been restored to the scabbard, when it had again to be drawn against another nobleman, as interesting for youth and courage as for the disproportion between the offence and the punishment.

Towards the end of June 1766, Charles Henri Sanson received an order to start immediately for Abbeville to carry out a capital sentence. The despatch, and the pressing terms in which it was couched, surprised him very much.

A few days before, the Parliament had rejected the appeal of the young Chevalier de la Barre, sentenced by the Presidial of Abbeville to be burnt after being decapitated, for singing obscene songs concerning the Virgin and the Saints. The culprit was not twenty; the most distinguished barristers of Paris declared that the proceedings which had preceded the sentence were monstrous; and it was openly said that the Parliament had confirmed the judgment in order to give satisfaction to