joy spread itself instantaneously over the face of the condemned man,
for he recognized the signal so impatiently waited for, and which
announced that aid was near. After a moment's hesitation, however, he
took the paper and began to write.

"He writes!" cried the crowd.

"He writes!" exclaimed Catherine.

"He writes!" cried the king, "and I will pardon him."

Suddenly Salcede stopped and looked again at the lad, who repeated the
signal. He wrote on, then stopped to look once more; the signal was
again repeated.

"Have you finished?" asked Tanchon.

"Yes."--"Then sign."

Salcede signed, with his eyes still fixed on the young man. "For the
king alone," said he, and he gave the paper to the usher, though with
hesitation.

"If you have disclosed all," said Tanchon, "you are safe."

A strange smile strayed over the lips of Salcede. Ernanton, who was
fatigued, wished now to put down the page, who made no opposition. With
him disappeared all that had sustained the unfortunate man; he looked
round wildly and cried: "Well, come!"