th curses.

When they reached the Place de Greve, the tumbril stopped at a little
distance from the scaffold. Then the registrar M. Drouet, came up on
horseback, and, addressing the marquise, said, "Madame, have you
nothing more to say? If you wish to make any declaration, the twelve
commissaries are here at hand, ready to receive it."

"You see, madame," said the doctor, "we are now at the end of our
journey, and, thank God, you have not lost your power of endurance on
the road; do not destroy the effect of all you have suffered and all you
have yet to suffer by concealing what you know, if perchance you do know
more than you have hitherto said."

"I have told all I know," said the marquise, "and there is no more I can
say."

"Repeat these words in a loud voice," said the doctor, "so that
everybody may hear."

Then in her loudest voice the marquise repeated--

"I have told all I know, and there is no more I can say."

After this declaration, they were going to drive the tumbril nearer to
the scaffold, but the crowd was so dense that the assistant could not
force a way through, though he struck out on every side with his whip.
So they had to stop a few paces short. The executioner had already got
down, and was adjusting the ladder. In this terrible moment of waiting,
the marquise looked calmly and gratefully at the doctor, and when she
felt that the tumbril had stopped, said, "Sir, it is not here we part:
you promised not to leave me till my head is cut off. I trust you will
keep your word."

"To be sure I will," the doctor replied; "we shall not be separated
before the moment of your death: be not troubled about that, for I will
never forsake you."

"I looked for this kindness," she said, "and your promise was too solemn
for you to think for one moment of failing me. Please be on the
scaffold and be near me. And now, sir, I would anticipate the final
farewell,--for all the things I shall have to do on the scaffold may
distract me,--so let me thank you here. If I am prepared to suffer the
sentence of my earthly judge, and to hear that of my heavenly judge,
I owe it to your care for me, and I am deeply grateful. I can only ask
your forgiveness for the trouble I have given you." Tears choked the
doctor's speech, and he could not reply. "Do you not forgive me?" she
repeated. At her words, the doctor tried to reassure her; but feeling
that if he opened his mouth he must needs break into sobs, he still kept
silen