Vous etes excedee.
Permettez que je vous fasse la meme piqure?"
But she thanked him and said she wanted all her wits about her,
though she promised "se maitriser"--to keep calm.
What a night! Her ears had a sense of hearing that was
preternaturally acute. The most distant step in the corridors was
audible. Was it a reprieve? One such sound multiplied itself into
the footsteps of two men walking, coming ever nearer--nearer--nearer
till they stopped outside her cell door. With a clank it was opened.
She sprang up. Fortunately she had not undressed. "You've brought a
reprieve?" she gasped. But the Directeur and Monsieur Walcker only
stood with downcast faces. "It will soon be morning," the Directeur
said. "There is no hope of a reprieve. He is to be executed at seven
at the Tir National. All we have secured for you is permission to
accompany him to the end. But if you think _that_ too painful, too
great a strain, I would suggest that you--"
"Nothing could overstrain me," said Vivie, "or rather I don't care
if anything kills me. I will go with him and stay with him, till the
very last moment, stay with him till he is buried if you permit!"
She made some hasty toilette, more because she wanted to look a fit
companion for him, and not a wretched derelict. They summoned her,
proffering a cup of acorn coffee, which she waved aside. The bitter
cold air of the snowy April morning braced her.
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