How full the court is--what a sea of heads--with a gallows, too, and a scaffold--and how all those people stare at _him_! Verdict, 'Guilty.' No matter; he will escape.
The night is dark and cold, the gates have been left open, and in an instant he is in the street, flying from the scene of his imprisonment like the wind.

The streets are cleared, the open fields are gained and the broad, wide country lies before him.

Onward he dashes in the midst of darkness, over hedge and ditch, through mud and pool, bounding from spot to spot with a speed and lightness, astonishing even to himself.

At length he pauses; he must be safe from pursuit now; he will stretch himself on that bank and sleep till sunrise.
A period of unconsciousness succeeds.

He wakes, cold and wretched.