Drawn by a single horse, and escorted by a troop of National Guards, came a low open cart, in which sat two persons, deadly white, gazing in a dazed vacant way at the scene around them, and sometimes casting a reproachful glance at the slowly plodding horse.

One of the two was an old man, of fine, aristocratic presence, which the coarse clothes he wore could not disguise.

The other was a low ruffian, with swollen face and bleared eyes, in the dress of a butcher.

Between the two, except that they were on their way to death, there was nothing in common.

Till to-day they had never met, and after to-day they would never meet again.