Moreux, who had murdered a girl to rob her and give a present to his beloved, put down his pipe quietly, when he received the news, saying, “I did not think it would be before next Wednesday,” ascended the scaffold quickly, and remarked to the chief warder in bidding him good-bye, “You see what comes of evil behavior.” Toly, who tried to kill a warder when first locked up, took his sentence very calmly, and faced death with great self-possession. He spent his last night at cards, but received the chaplain with great emotion and deep sentiments of repentance. Coutalier had murdered his wife with one blow of a hatchet, and bore up well until he saw the guillotine, when he threw himself back violently, but soon regained his impassiveness. Many were at great pains to proclaim their innocence. It was so with Boudas, an ex-priest, whose consuming desire was to become rich. He poisoned two wives in succession, so as to secure their inheritances. It was clearly proved against him, but he reiterated as he knelt and laid his head on the block: “Let every one know that I am not guilty.” Gervais sacrificed an aged companion, a well-to-do dealer in antiques, because he wanted means to marry. His awakening on the last morning was a frightful scene. “I can’t, I won’t believe it. It is impossible. The law is about to commit a terrible crime.” He fought the executioner so hard that he had to be led twice to the block. But he died smiling with that curious, artificial grin that relaxes the muscles of the face at moments of great nervous derangement, and has no connection with real laughter. Billoir hated his wife for her extravagance and slovenliness, murdered her, and threw the body into the Seine. He was an old soldier of good character and distinguished service, but Marshal MacMahon, the President, positively refused to pardon him. He was quite overwhelmed with the shock when told the fatal news, but speedily recovered himself, and, crossing his hands on his breast, respectfully saluted the chaplain.