It was the Vicomte Ernanton de Carmainges and the mysterious page.
"Quick!" cried the page; "throw yourself into the opening, there is not a moment to lose." "But we shall be stifled; you are mad, my little friend." "I must be near," cried the page, imperiously.

"Keep close to the horses, or we shall never arrive there." "But before we get there, you will be torn to pieces." "Never mind me, only go on." "The horses will kick." "Take hold of the tail of the last; a horse never kicks when you hold him so." Ernanton gave way in spite of himself to the mysterious influence of this lad, and seized the tail of the horse, while the page clung to him.
And thus, through the crowd, waving like the sea, leaving here a piece of a cloak, and there a fragment of a doublet, they arrived with the horses at a few steps from the scaffold.
"Have we arrived ?" asked the young man, panting.
"Yes, happily!" answered Ernanton, "for I am exhausted." "I cannot see." "Come before me." "Oh, no! not yet.

What are they doing ?" "Making slip knots at the ends of the cords." "And he--what is he doing ?" "Who ?" "The condemned." "His eyes turn incessantly from side to side." The horses were near enough to enable the executioner to tie the feet and hands of the criminal to the harness.

Salcede uttered a cry when he felt the cord in contact with his flesh.
"Monsieur," said the Lieutenant Tanchon to him politely, "will it please you to address the people ?" and added in a whisper, "a confession will save your life." Salcede looked earnestly at him, as though to read the truth in his eyes.
"You see," continued Tanchon, "they abandon you.

There is no other hope in the world but what I offer you." "Well!" said Salcede, with a sigh, "I am ready to speak." "It is a written and signed confession that the king exacts." "Then untie my hands, and give me a pen and I will write it." They loosened the cords from his wrists, and an usher who stood near with writing materials placed them before him on the scaffold.