Three times I called:
"Solange! Solange! Solange!"
At the third time she opened her eyes and looked at me. Tears trickled
down her cheeks; then a moist glow darted from her eyes, as if the soul
were passing, and the eyes closed, never to open again.
I sprang to my feet a raving maniac, I wanted to fly; I knocked against
the table; it fell. The candle was extinguished; the head rolled upon the
floor, and I fell prostrate, as if a terrible fever had stricken me
down--an icy-shudder convulsed me, and, with a deep sigh, I swooned.
The following morning at six the grave-diggers found me, cold as the
flagstones on which I lay.
Solange, betrayed by her father's letter, had been arrested the same day,
condemned, and executed.
The head that had called me, the eyes that had looked at me, were the
head, the eyes, of Solange!