The brave man, knowing he was mortally wounded, endeavored to destroy this fatal list; but the agonies of death prevented him from swallowing it----" But the abbe and Maurice had not time to listen to the commentaries with which the hotel proprietor accompanied his recital.
They despatched a messenger to Mme.

d'Escorval and to Marie-Anne, in order to reassure them, and, without losing a moment, and fully determined to brave all, they went to the house occupied by the Duc de Sairmeuse.
A crowd had gathered about the door.

At least a hundred persons were standing there; men with anxious faces, women in tears, soliciting, imploring an audience.
They were the friends and relatives of the unfortunate men who had been arrested.
Two footmen, in gorgeous livery and pompous in bearing, had all they could do to keep back the struggling throng.
The abbe, hoping that his priestly dress would win him a hearing, approached and gave his name.

But he was repulsed like the others.
"Monsieur le Duc is busy, and can receive no one," said the servant.
"Monsieur le Duc is preparing his report for His Majesty." And in support of this assertion, he pointed to the horses, standing saddled in the court-yard, and the couriers who were to bear the despatches.
The priest sadly rejoined his companions.
"We must wait!" said he.
Intentionally or not, the servants were deceiving these poor people.

The duke, just then, was not troubling himself about despatches.