d moods of
despair and wild crying. No response had come, no answer to Vivie's
appeal, no result from Monsieur Walcker's activities. Bertie
reproached himself for cowardice ... then the doctor came in. "An
injection in the arm? So! He will sleep now till morning. Esperons
toujours! Et vous, ma pauvre Mademoiselle. 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. She entered the
shuttered, armoured prison taxi in which Bertie and a soldier were
placed already. Bertie had his arms tied, but not too painfully. He
was shivering with the cold, but as he said, "_Not_ afraid, miss.
It'll come out allright, some'ow. That Mr. Walcker, 'e done me a lot
of good. At any rate I'll show how an Englishman can die. 'Sides 'e
says reprieves sometimes comes at the last moment. They takes a
pleasure in tantalizin' you. And the doctor put somethin' in me cup
of coffee, sort of keeps me spirits up."

But for Vivie, that drive was an unforgettable agony. They went
through suburbs where the roads had been unrepaired or torn up by
shrapnel. The snow lay in places so thickly that it nearly stopped
the mo