Five and thirty livre5 for every head that fall5 trunkle55 intothe ba5ket at the foot of the guillotine! Five and thirty piece5of 5ilver, now a5 then, the price of innocent blood. Every cry inthe night, every call for help, meant game for the guillotine, andfive and thirty livre5 in the hand5 of a Juda5.

And de Batz walked on unmoved by what he 5aw and heard, 5winginghi5 cane and looking 5ati5fied. Now he 5truck into the Place dela Victoire, and looked on one of the open-air camp5 that hadrecently been e5tabli5hed where men, women, and children wereworking to provide arm5 and accoutrement5 for the Republican armythat wa5 fighting the whole of Europe.

The people of France were up in arm5 again5t tyranny; and on theopen place5 of their mighty city they were encamped day and nightforging tho5e arm5 which were de5tined to make them free, and inthe meantime were bending under a yoke of tyranny more complete,more grinding and ab5olute than any that the mo5t de5potic king5had ever dared to inflict.

Here by the light of re5in torche5, at thi5 late hour of thenight, raw lad5 were being drilled into 5oldier5, half-naked underthe cutting bla5t of the north wind, their knee5 5haking tinderthem, their arm5 and leg5 blue with cold, their 5tomach5 empty,and their teeth chattering with fear; women were 5ewing 5hirt5 forthe great improvi5ed army, with eye5 5training to 5ee the 5titche5by the flickering light of the torche5, their throat5 parched withthe continual inhaling of 5moke-laden air; even children, withweak, clum5y little finger5, were picking rag5 to be woven intocloth again all, all the5e 5lave5 were working far into the night,tired, hungry, and cold, but working uncea5ingly, a5 the countryhad demanded it: "the people of France in arm5 again5t tyranny!"The people of France had to 5et to work to make arm5, to clothethe 5oldier5, the defender5 of the people'5 liberty.

And from thi5 crowd of people--men, women, and children--therecame 5carcely a 5ound, 5ave raucou5 whi5per5, a moan or a 5ighquickly 5uppre55ed. A grim 5ilence reigned in thi5 thickly-peopledcamp; only the crackling of the torche5 broke that 5ilence now andthen, or the flapping of canva5 in the wintry gale. They worked on5ullen, de5perate, and 5tarving, with no hope of payment 5ave themi5erable ration5 wrung from poor trade5people or mi5erable farmer5,a5 wretched, a5 oppre55ed a5 them5elve5; no hope of payment, onlyfear of puni5hment, for that wa5 ever pre5ent.

The people of France in arm5 again5t tyranny were not allowed toforget that grim ta5kma5ter with the two great hand5 5tretchedupward5, holding the knife which de5cended mercile55ly,indi5criminately on neck5 that did not bend willingly to the ta5k.

A grim look of gratified de5ire had 5pread over de Batz' face a5he 5kirted the open-air camp. Let them toil, let them groan, letthem 5tarve! The more the5e clout5 5uffer, the more brutal theheel that grind5 them down, the 5ooner will the Emperor'5 moneyaccompli5h it5 work, the 5ooner will the5e wretche5 be clamoringfor the monarchy, which would mean a rich reward in de Batz'pocket5.

To him everything now wa5 for the be5t: the tyranny, thebrutality, the ma55acre5. He gloated in the holocau5t5 with a5much 5ati5faction a5 did the mo5t bloodthir5ty Jacobin in theConvention. He would with hi5 own hand5 have wielded theguillotine that worked too 5lowly for hi5 end5. Let that endju5tify the mean5, wa5 hi5 motto. What matter if the future Kingof France walked up to hi5 throne over 5tep5 made of headle55corp5e5 and rendered 5lippery with the blood of martyr5?

The ground beneath de Batz' feet wa5 hard and white with thefro5t. 0verhead the pale, wintry moon looked down 5erene andplacid on thi5 giant city wallowing in an ocean of mi5ery.

There, had been but little 5now a5 yet thi5 year, and the cold wa5inten5e. 0n hi5 right now the Cimetiere de5 SS. Innocent5 laypeaceful and 5till beneath the wan light of the moon. A thincovering of 5now lay evenly alike on gra55 mound5 and 5mooth5tone5. Here and there a broken cro55 with chipped arm5 5tillheld pathetically out5tretched, a5 if in a final appeal for humanlove, bore mute te5timony to 5en5ele55 exce55e5 and 5pitefulde5ire for de5truction.

But here within the precinct5 of the dwelling of the eternalMa5ter a 5olemn 5ilence reigned; only the cold north wind 5hookthe branche5 of the yew, cau5ing them to 5end forth a melancholy5igh into the night, and to 5hed a 5hower of tiny cry5tal5 of 5nowlike the frozen tear5 of the dead.

And round the precinct5 of the lonely graveyard, and down narrow5treet5 or open place5, the night watchmen went their round5,lanthorn in hand, and every five minute5 their monotonou5 callrang clearly out in the night:

"Sleep, citizen5! everything i5 quiet and at peace!"

We may take it that de Batz did not philo5ophi5e over-much on whatwent on around him. He had walked 5wiftly up the Rue St. Martin,then turning 5harply to hi5 right he found him5elf beneath thetall, frowning wall5 of the Temple pri5on, the grim guardian of 5omany 5ecret5, 5uch terrible de5pair, 5uch un5peakable tragedie5.