Enthusiasm bore him up--he was going to his death in all the splendour of his dream.

When the executioner's assistants drew near to support him he once more refused their help, and again set himself in motion, advancing with short steps, but as quickly and as straightly as the rope hampering his legs permitted.
All at once Guillaume felt that Salvat's eyes were fixed upon him.
Drawing nearer and nearer the condemned man had perceived and recognised his friend; and as he passed by, at a distance of no more than six or seven feet, he smiled faintly and darted such a deep penetrating glance at Guillaume, that ever afterwards the latter felt its smart.

But what last thought, what supreme legacy had Salvat left him to meditate upon, perhaps to put into execution?
It was all so poignant that Pierre feared some involuntary call on his brother's part; and so he laid his hand upon his arm to quiet him.
"Long live Anarchy!" It was Salvat who had raised this cry.

But in the deep silence his husky, altered voice seemed to break.

The few who were near at hand had turned very pale; the distant crowd seemed bereft of life.