ing of that
day's sun, found its way through the loopholes in the walls, and shed a
flood of light into the very midst of the wretched cell, rendered now
completely illumined by means of the opening of the door at the opposite
end of the passage to that in which the condemned cell was situated. In
the midst of this blaze of day appeared two gaolers, each bearing a
chair; an officer also made his appearance, saying to the widow in a
voice of sympathy:

"Madame, the hour has arrived."

The mother arose on the instant, erect and immovable, while Calabash
uttered the most piercing cries. Then four more persons entered the
cell; four of the number, who were very shabbily dressed, bore in their
hands packets of fine but very strong cord. The taller man of the party
was dressed in black, with a large cravat; he handed a paper to the
officer. This individual was the executioner, and the paper a receipt
signifying his having received two females for the purpose of
guillotining them. The man then took sole charge of these unhappy
creatures, and, from that moment, was responsible for them.

To the wild terror and despair which had first seized Calabash, now
succeeded a kind of stupefaction; and so nearly insensible was she that
the assistant executioners were compelled to seat her on her bed, and to
support her when there; her firmly closed jaws scarcely enabled her to
utter a sound, but her hollow eyes rolled vacantly in their sockets, her
chin fell listlessly on her breast, and, but for the support of the two
men, she would have fallen forwards a lifeless, senseless mass.

After having bestowed a last embrace on his wretched sister, Martial
stood petrified with terror, unable to speak or move, and as though
perfectly spellbound by the horrible scene before him.

The cool audacity of the widow did not for an instant forsake her; with
head erect, and firm, collected manner, she assisted in taking off the
strait-waistcoat she had worn, and which had hitherto fettered her
movements; this removed, she appeared in an old black stuff dress.

"Where shall I place myself?" asked she, in a clear, steady voice.

"Be good enough to sit down upon one of those chairs," said the
executioner, pointing to the seats arranged at the entrance of the
dungeon.

With unfaltering step, the widow prepared to follow the directions given
her, but as she passed her daughter she said, in a voice that betokened
some little emotion:

"Kiss me, my c