he headdress of the marquise as she
was driven to Notre-Dame.

The cortege had only gone a few steps, when the face of the marquise,
for a time a little calmer, was again convulsed. From her eyes, fixed
constantly on the crucifix, there darted a flaming glance, then came a
troubled and frenzied look which terrified the doctor. He knew she must
have been struck by something she saw, and, wishing to calm her, asked
what it was.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied quickly, looking towards him; "it was
nothing."

"But, madame," said he, "you cannot give the lie to your own eyes; and a
minute ago I saw a fire very different from the fire of love, which only
some displeasing sight can have provoked. What may this be? Tell me,
pray; for you promised to tell me of any sort of temptation that might
assail you."

"Sir," she said, "I will do so, but it is nothing." Then, looking
towards the executioner, who, as we know, sat facing the doctor, she
said, "Put me in front of you, please; hide that man from me." And she
stretched out her hands towards a man who was following the tumbril
on horseback, and so dropped the torch, which the doctor took, and the
crucifix, which fell on the floor. The executioner looked back, and
then turned sideways as she wished, nodding and saying, "Oh yes, I
understand." The doctor pressed to know what it meant, and she said, "It
is nothing worth telling you, and it is a weakness in me not to be able
to bear the sight of a man who has ill-used me. The man who touched the
back of the tumbril is Desgrais, who arrested me at Liege, and treated
me so badly all along the road. When I saw him, I could not control
myself, as you noticed."

"Madame," said the doctor, "I have heard of him, and you yourself spoke
of him in confession; but the man was sent to arrest you, and was in
a responsible position, so that he had to guard you closely and
rigorously; even if he had been more severe, he would only have been
carrying out his orders. Jesus Christ, madame, could but have regarded
His executioners as ministers of iniquity, servants of injustice, who
added of their own accord every indignity they could think of; yet all
along the way He looked on them with patience and more than patience,
and in His death He prayed for them."

In the heart of the marquise a hard struggle was passing, and this was
reflected on her face; but it was only for a moment, and after a last
convulsive shudder she was again calm and ser