We were about fifty in number; and after being placed in open
artillery waggons, the procession moved rapidly through the suburb,
until we reached one of those dilapidated and hideous-looking
buildings which were then to be found startling the stranger's eye
with the recollections of the St Bartholomew and the Fronde.

A crowd, assembled round the door of one of these melancholy shades,
and the bayonets of a company of the national guard glittering above
their heads, at length indicated the place of our destination. The
crowd shouted, and called us "aristocrats, thirsting for the blood of
the good citizens." The line of the guard opened, and we were rapidly
passed through several halls, the very dwelling of decay, until we
reached a large court, where the prisoners remained while the judges
were occupied in deciding on the fate of the train which the morning
had already provided. I say nothing of the insults which were
intended, if not to add new bitterness to death, to indulge the
wretched men and women who could find an existence in attending on the
offices of the tribunal, with opportunities of triumphing over those
born to better things. While we remained in the court exposed to the
weather, which was now cold and gusty, shouts were heard at intervals,
which, as the turnkeys informed us, arose from the spectators of the
executions--death, in these fearful days, immediately following
sentence. Yet, to the last the ludicrous often mingled with the
melancholy. While I was taking my place in the file according to the
order of our summons, and was next in rotation for trial, a smart and
overdressed young man stepped out of his place in the rank, and
drawing from his bosom a pamphlet in manuscript, presented it to me,
with the special entreaty that, "in case I survived, I should take
care of its propagation throughout Europe." My answer naturally was,