The crier began to read again,—
"The above named, in whatever place they may be taken, will be immediately put to death after their identity has been established."
There was a stir in the crowd.
The crier added,—
"Whoever gives them shelter, or helps them to escape will be taken before a court-martial and put to death. Signed—"
There was a profound silence.
"Signed: The Delegate of the Committee of Public Welfare, Cimourdain."
"A priest," said a peasant.
"The former curé of Parigné." said another.
A citizen added,—
"Turmeau and Cimourdain. A White priest, and a Blue priest."
"Both black," said another citizen.
The mayor standing on the balcony, raised his hat and cried,—
"Long live the Republic!"
The beating of the drum announced that the crier had finished. Indeed, he made a sign with his hand.
"Attention," he said. "Here are the four last lines of the notice of the government. They are signed by the chief of the reconnoitring column of the coasts of the north commanded by Gauvain."
"Listen!" cried the voices of the crowd.
And the crier read,—
"Under pain of death—"
All were silent.
"It is forbidden, in fulfilment of the above order, to aid and assist the nineteen rebels above named, who are at the present time invested and surrounded in la Tourgue."
"Hey?" said a voice.
It was a woman's voice. It was the voice of the mother.
