At length, after an impartial summing up
by the president, the jury retired to deliberate
upon the four questions of homicide, fire-
raising, premeditation, and the existence of
extenuating circumstances. In the absence
of the court, the jury, and the prisoners, the
audience freely discussed the points of the case.
In about an hour and a half the tinkle of a
bell announced the return of the jury. When
the court had taken their seats, the president
asked the foreman of the jury the result of
their deliberation. The foreman replied:
With regard to the principal accused, Jules
Delorme, the unanimous decision of the jury
is as follows: On the first point, homicide,
yes; on the second point, fire-raising, yes;
on the third point, premeditation, yes;
with the admission, however, of extenuating
circumstances. With regard to the second
accused, Jean Delorme, the unanimous
decision of the jury was Not Guilty upon all the
points.

Jean Delorme was therefore brought in;
and, after having the verdict of the jury
relating to himself read to him, was formally
discharged.

Jules Delorme was then ordered to appear
and hear the reading of his part of the verdict.

"Command yourself," whispered his
advocate, " it is not all over!"

When Jules heard the verdict of Guilty, he
quivered in every limb, and looked inquiringly
to his advocate, who only answered, "Be
calm!" The president having put the usual
question: "Have you any observation to
make upon the passing of the sentence?"
Monsieur Edouard de la Tour replied by
recommending the prisoner to mercy. After
about five minutes' deliberation the court
sentenced Jules Delorme to hard labour for
life. The prisoner was led out of the hall
unconscious of all around him.

Meanwhile Jean Delorme awaited
impatiently outside the old Palace of Justice for
his son's coming, in the midst of a group of
congratulating villagers; and it was not
until the court broke up, that they learned
why Jules did not come.

The continuation of this narrative must be
compiled from the diary kept by Jules
Delorme.

IV.

TWENTY-NINTH of September eighteen
hundred and forty-six. The crisis is over. I
have just received a letter from the public
prosecutor, granting me leave to keep my
pocket-book and pencil. It is a great
consolation for me to be allowed to write down my
thoughts.

The night after that awful condemnation
I slept well. But what I felt on awaking!
All the horror of my position came up
before me; and, for the first three days, as
I brooded over my misery, I passed successively
from a state of despair, to fury and
madness.

My poor father came to see me last night.
The sight of him did me good. He promised
me that as long as he has a drop of blood in
his veins, he will hunt the world until he
finds out the murderers of Gay. God knows
he will keep his promise, for he is certain I
am innocent.

Fourteenth of November. What a wretched
life I drag along in this place (the prison of
Bordeaux)! When I think that I am
condemned to it for ever, and that I am a
convict, I often fancy it would have been
better if I had been sentenced to death; for
then I should have appeared immediately
before the Eternal Judge. Sometimes black
thoughts come into my mind, and I feel
tempted. But I have promised to live.

Thirtieth of April, eighteen hundred and
forty-seven. This morning I arrived at
the Bagne (convict prison) of Rochefort.
There a new and terrible spectacle,
awaited me. Indeed, what is a prison
in comparison with a bagne? They
undressed me; and, after clothing me in the
infamous costume, they chained me. I was
tied down upon a piece of strong wood, about
three metres long, and half a metre thick.
An iron ring having been slipped above the
calf of my leg, was then riveted on by means
of two iron screws or rivets. A chain, about
a metre and a half long, consisting of nine
links, was fastened to the ring; the whole
weighs about three pounds and a-half.
During the operation I was held down tightly;
for if I had made the slightest movement I
might have broken my leg. What I suffered
in that ten minutes! It seemed as if every
blow of the hammer smote my heart and fired
my brain. I must wear those chains as long
as ever I am here, and God alone knows how
long that may be! The last link of my chain
is fastened to a bar of iron adapted to a
camp-bedstead: and the only liberty I have
here is the length of my chain. They have
given me a blanket, and put me on a pair of
yellow sleeves, as a sign of a man who is to
be suspected and feared: I whose whole
thoughts are of my innocence and of her
with whom I might have passed my life.

When I was undressed they took away my
writing-materials, so I asked to see the
governor. When he came I showed him the
letter of the public prosecutor, and my things
were restored to me. It is a great comfort
to me. I think I should soon be dead if I
did not write a little. I fancy I am somewhat
less miserable when I have confided
my grief to paper.

Thirteenth of May. Yesterday I was
transferred from my solitary cell to the large hall.
There I found about five hundred men;
some sitting upon their beds and benches;
others tossing about, clanking their chains:
all screaming, swearing, and blaspheming. I
thought that I had arrived in hell itself. I
felt that anguish of heart which it is
impossible to describe. As I sat in that living