Then my sight became troubled; a chill damp pervaded my frame. I felt
the veins on my temples swelling, and a confused murmur in my ears.
Whilst I vacillated on my chair as though asleep, the old man continued
speaking,--at least, so it appeared to me, for I think I remember seeing
his lips move, and his hand raised.
The door was opened again; the noise of the lock roused me from my
reverie, and the Priest from his discourse. A person dressed in black
entered, accompanied by the Governor of the prison, and bowed
profoundly to me; he carried a roll of paper.
“Sir,” said he, with a courteous smile, “I have the honour to bring you
a message from the Attorney-General.”
The first agitation was over; all my presence of mind returned, and I
answered in a firm tone, “Read on, Sir.”
He then read a long, technically-expressed paper, the purport of which
was the rejection of my plea. “The execution will be to-day,” added he;
“we shall leave this for the Conciergerie Prison at half-past seven. My
dear Sir, will you have the extreme goodness to accompany me at that
hour?”
For some instants I had no longer listened to him; for while his eyes
were fixed on the paper the Governor was occupied talking to the Priest;
and I looked at the door which they had left half open!... Ah, hapless
me! Four sentinels in the corridor. Again I was asked when I would be
ready to go.
“When you please,” I said; “at your own time.”
“I shall have the honour of coming for you, then, in half an hour,” said
he, bowing; and all the party withdrew.
Oh, for some means of escaping! Good heavens! any means whatever! I
_must_ make my escape! I must! Immediately! By the doors, by the
windows, by the roof! Even though in the struggle I should destroy
myself!
Oh, rage! demons! malediction! It would take months to pierce this wall
with efficient tools. And I have not one nail, nor one hour!