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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I have no weapons," replied Beauvallon. "I have no sinister designs. I know not why I am arrested. Acquaint me with the charge, and confront me with my accusers." "Seize upon the prisoner!" cried Dumart to his satellites. And he breathed freer when he saw the merchant in the gripe of two muscular ruffians, whose iron hands compressed his wrists as if they were manacles.
The Citizen Dumart was a sallow-faced man, dressed in rusty black, wearing an enormous tri-colored cockade in his three-cornered hat, with a sash of the same color girt around his waist. His bloodshot eyes expressed a mixture of cowardice with ferocity. He was flanked by a couple of pikemen as hideous as the Afrites of Eastern romance.
"You shall know, traitor," shrieked a palsied hag of eighty, whose lurid eyes had already gloated on every public execution that had taken place in Toulouse. "Here is Citizen Dumart of the revolutionary committee ah, he is a true friend of the people he is no aristocrat in disguise! Vive le Citoyen Dumart!" "Long live Citizen Dumart! Down with the aristocrats!" shouted a hundred voices.
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