be executed for murder at Troyes, some four or five hours hence.”
“Is there any particular reason for sending them so far to be executed, at the last moment?”
“It seems there are peculiar circumstances connected with the affair which induced the authorities to order it to take place at the principal town of the department. The time for their execution had been fixed—though the criminals themselves do not know it yet—and at the last moment the order was sent down for them to be transferred to Troyes.”
“And they are to be put to death this morning, you say?”
“Yes.”
“I am not partial to such scenes, but as I have never seen the guillotine in action, I think I should like to be present. Would that be possible?”
“That depends. You would not like to ride with one of those miserables. Besides, each has got his priest with him. Has not the landlord got a horse he could lend you?”
I went down to consult the landlord, and found that he had a jewel of a horse, one that could trot easily the five leagues in two hours. Having arranged with him to have this horse got ready for me at once, I returned to the captain to inform him of my success, and received an invitation from him to ride with him. It then occurred to me to ask him what were the peculiar features of this case which caused the ordinary custom to be departed from.
“It would give me great pleasure to tell you,” he replied, “but it would really take too long, as we must be on the march again in a few minutes, but I think I can get you the newspapers which contain a full account of the affair.” Then going to the window, he called out, “Sergeant Boichot! have you not the journals which contain the report of the trials of the condemned?”
“Yes, my captain,” I heard the man answer.
“Then have the kindness to bring them up here. A gentleman wishes to see them.”
Directly after a trooper entered the room, holding in his hand several numbers of the “Journal des Débats,” which he gave to me with a request that I would accept them. In return I requested him to do me the favour to accept a small packet of English tobacco and a petit verre, which, after looking at his commander’s face, he did. The captain, intimating that it was now time to go, I put the papers in my pocket, buttoned my coat, and we descended into the road. The early morning air was so fresh and cool that I was glad when he gave the order to advance at a trot. We kept steadily on for about half-an-hour, when we came to a steep hill, up which we proceeded at a walk. The bright moon was still shining, and the landscape on either side of the road was beautifully lighted. Everything looked so still and quiet that I could not help shuddering when I thought of the wretched men in the vehicles beside me, and of the short time that would elapse before they would be sent violently from a world so beautiful. At this moment I heard one of them exclaim, in a voice which thrilled through me, “Blessed Mary! have mercy upon me!” Then I heard another voice responding, but the sound was drowned by the voice of the captain, ordering his men to advance, and we were again pushing along at a good pace. The same thing occurred several times when we slackened speed, but no sooner did an exclamation, “O Jesus, son of Mary, have mercy on me!” or any similar one, reach the captain’s ears, than he immediately resumed a trot; as if he were anxious to get out of hearing of such painful sounds. There were very few opportunities for conversation during our ride, so that I had full leisure to enjoy the beauties of the country under the different aspects it presented, as the daylight gradually eclipsed that of the moon. It was about five o’clock when we arrived at our place of destination. Due notice had been received of what was to take place, for we found the civil authorities in readiness to take charge of the prisoners. I invited Captain Richard to breakfast with me, but his duty compelled him to decline it. I therefore left him, with a promise that I would meet him at the prison entrance in two hours. The street in front of the prison was swarming with people, a large proportion of whom, it was evident, had come in from the country around; and at the hotel which had been recommended to me I found everybody astir, early as it was. Having ordered a breakfast, I carried a chair into the balcony, and took out the newspapers which Sergeant Boichot had given me. The evidence extended to a great length, so I reserved that for future perusal, and for the moment confined myself to the statement of the public prosecutor, which, as is usual in such statements, contained every detail of the charge capable of proof, and something more. The incidents of the case were of an extraordinary character, and the only deviation I have made from the facts of the case as stated in the newspapers has been in altering the names, so as to avoid hurting the feelings of the relatives of the murdered man.
Five years previous to the period of which I am speaking, M. Courtaud was a landed proprietor in the neighbourhood of . He was a man about fifty years of age, had a wife some score of years or so younger, and three little children. Among others whom he employed on his estate were two brothers, named respectively Sylvestre and Jean Débordet. The first of these was a kind of overlooker about the house and farm-yard, and rumour associated his name with that of Madame Courtaud in a manner not favourable to the latter’s reputation. Jean Débordet was a labourer, and one Martin Tréport was the gamekeeper, and gave an eye to the woods to prevent the villagers from pilfering. There were some other servants whose names it is not necessary to specify, but who will have to be mentioned in the course of the narrative. Madame Courtaud had been staying for some weeks with her mother in Paris, and her husband had written to her that he intended to join her in the course of a day or two. The day before he intended leaving, he dismissed Jean Débordet, and more than once repeated, what he had often before said, that he would sell his property and remove to Belgium, in consequence of his domestic troubles. The person in whom he was said to place most confidence was Martin Tréport, and to him he was