town--come to see the execution. But their faces were sympathetic;
an unmistakable look of mingled grief and rage, not unmixed with
desperation--for they were a down-trodden folk--shone in the hundreds
of eyes turned towards us. I was the only woman among the condemned.
C. was there, and poor "Fou," looking bewildered, and one or two
other prisoners. On the third and fourth sides of the quadrangle
was a high wall, and in a certain place was a niche partly enclosing
the trunk of a tree, cut off at the top. An iron ring was driven
into the trunk midway, evidently for the purpose of securing condemned
persons for execution. I guessed it would be used for that now.
In the centre of the square piece of ground stood a file of soldiers,
armed with carbines, and an officer with a drawn sabre. The palisade
was guarded by a row of soldiers somewhat sparsely distributed,
ertainly not more than a dozen in all. A Catholic priest in a black
cassock walked beside me, and as we were conducted into the enclosure,
he turned to me and offered religious consolation. I declined his
ministrations, but asked him anxiously if he knew which of us was
to die first. "You," he replied; "the officer in charge of you
said you wished it, and he has been able to accede to your request."
Even then I felt a singular joy at hearing this, though I had no
longer any expectation of release. Death was, I thought, far too
near at hand for that. Just then a soldier approached us, and led me,
bare-headed, to the tree trunk, where he placed me with my back
against it, and made fast my hands behind me with a rope to the
iron ring. No bandage was put over my eyes. I stood thus, facing
the file of soldiers in the middle of the quadrangle, and noticed
that the officer with the drawn sabre placed himself at the extremity
of the line, composed of six men. In that supreme moment I also
noticed that their uniform was bright with steel accoutrements.
Their helmets were of steel, and their carbines, as they raised