Part 88 (1/2)

A murmur of surprise arose from the ranks of the women; they perceived instinctively that something extraordinary was about to occur; their hearts comprehended that this pale young woman, who now stood before the general with flaming eyes and panting breast, must be closely connected with the poor prisoner. Every one of them held her breath in order to hear her voice and understand her words.

”They ask for mercy for Palm?” she asked, in a voice in which her whole soul was vibrating. ”They speak of execution? Then you are going to murder him? You have sentenced him infamously and wickedly?”

And while putting these questions to the general, her eyes pierced his face as though they were two daggers.

”Pray choose your words more carefully,” said the general, harshly; ”the court-martial has sentenced the traitor; hence, he will not be murdered, but punished for the crime he has committed. And for this reason,” he added, in a louder voice, turning to the women, ”for this reason I am unable to grant your request. The court-martial has p.r.o.nounced the sentence, and it is not in my power to annul it. The Emperor Napoleon alone could do so if he were here. But as he is in Paris, and consequently cannot be reached, the law must take its course. Palm will be shot at two o'clock this afternoon!”

”Shot!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the young woman; for a moment she tottered as if she were about to faint, but then she courageously overcame her emotion, and stretching out her arms to the women, exclaimed: ”Pray with me, my sisters, that I may be permitted to see Palm and bid him farewell! I am his wife, and have come to die with him!”

And like a broken lily she sank down at the general's feet. The ma.s.s of the women was surging as if a sudden gust of wind had moved the waves; murmurs and sighs, sobs and groans, filled the air, and were the only language, the only prayer the deeply-moved women were capable of.

The general bent down to Anna and raised her. ”Madame,” he said, so loudly as to be heard by the other women, ”madame, your prayer is granted. The only favor for which the prisoner asked was to see YOU before his death, and we granted it to him. Follow, therefore, my adjutant: he will bring you to him. Palm is waiting for you!”

”Ah, I knew very well that he was waiting for me, and that G.o.d would lead me to him in time!” exclaimed Anna, raising her radiant eyes toward heaven.

CHAPTER LIX.

THE LAST HOUR.

Palm had returned to his cell without uttering a complaint, a reproach.

Nothing in his bearing betrayed his profound grief, his intense indignation. He knew that neither his complaints nor his reproaches were able to change his fate, and consequently he wanted to bear it like a man.

He greeted Balthasar with a touching smile; the jailer received him at the door of his cell, and concealed no longer the tears which filled his eyes.

”My poor friend,” said Palm, kindly, ”then you already knew what was in store for me, and it cut you to the quick to see me so merry and unconcerned! Well, now you may accept my gift, for now I shall be free, so free that no shackles and chains will ever be able to hold me again.

And you promised me not to reject my gift when I should be restored to liberty. I have got it, my friend,--take my present, therefore!”

He took the breastpin from the table and handed it to the jailer. The latter received it with a scarcely suppressed groan, and when he bent down to kiss the hand which had given it to him, a scalding tear fell from his eyes on Palm's hand.

”Oh,” said Palm, feelingly, ”I gave you only a small trinket, and you return to me a diamond for it! I thank you, my friend; I know you will pray for me in my last moments. Now leave me alone for an hour, for I must collect my thoughts and consult with G.o.d about what is in store for me. Are you allowed to give me pen and ink?”

”I have already placed writing-materials in the drawer of your table,”

said Balthasar, in a low voice, ”for all prisoners like you have the right to draw up their last will for their family, and I solemnly swear to you that I will forward what you are going to write to its address.”

”I thank you, my friend; leave me alone, then, so that I may write. But listen! Do not go too far away; remain in the corridor so that you can open the door to her as soon as SHE comes.”

”SHE!” asked the jailer. ”Who is it?”

Palm hesitated; he was unable to utter the word at once, for the tears arose from his heart and paralyzed his tongue. ”My wife!” he said, painfully, at last. ”Go and await her, for I am sure she will come!”

He motioned Balthasar to withdraw, and then sat down, weary and exhausted, in his cane-chair. For a moment he was overwhelmed by the whole misery of his position, and his grief rolled like an avalanche on his poor heart. He dropped his head on his breast; his arms hung down heavy and powerless, and a few tears, as large as those of children, and burning like fire, rolled over his cheeks. But this did not last long, for these scalding drops aroused him from the stupor of his grief.

He raised his head again and dried the tears on his cheeks. ”I have no time to spare for weeping,” he said to himself in a low voice; ”my hours are numbered, and I must write to my poor Anna my will for her and my children!”

He took from the drawer the writing-materials which Balthasar had kindly placed there, and took a seat at the table in order to write. He placed his chair, however, in such a manner that he was able to see the door of his cell, and frequently, while writing, raised his eyes from the paper and fixed them anxiously on the door.

Now he really heard approaching steps, and the key was put into the lock.