She saw the man uncoil his lash and step forward. In that instant
Caron's eyes were raised, and they met hers across the intervening
space. He smiled a valedictory smile that seemed to make her heart
stand still. She and her mother were now the only women on the
balcony. The others had made haste to withdraw as soon as La
Boulaye had been pilloried. The Marquise remained because she
seemed to find entertainment in the spectacle. Suzanne remained
because horror rooted her to the spot - horror and a great pity for
this unfortunate who had looked so strong and brave that morning,
when he had had the audacity to tell her that he loved her.

The lash sang through the air, quivered, hummed, and cut with a
sickening crackle into the young man's flesh.

The hideous sound roused her She shuddered from head to foot, and
turning she put her hands to her face and rushed within, followed
by the Marquise's derisive laughter.

"Mon Dieu! It is horrible! Horrible!" she cried as she sank into
the nearest chair, and clapped her hands to her ears. But she
could not shut it out. Still she heard the humming of the whip and
the cruel sound of the falling blows. Mechanically she counted
them, unconsciously almost, and at twenty she heard them cease.
Was it over? Was he dead, this poor unfortunate? Moved by a
curiosity that was greater than her loathing, she rose and went
to the threshold of the balcony.

"Is it ended?" she asked.