of the executioner!

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Cinq-Mars, as, heaving a deep sigh, he opened
his eyes. A flickering lamp lighted the ruinous chamber of the inn; he
again closed his eyes, for he had seen, seated on his bed, a woman, a
nun, young and beautiful! He thought he was still dreaming, but she
grasped his hand firmly. He opened his burning eyes, and fixed them upon
her.

"Is it you, Jeannede Belfiel? The rain has drenched your veil and your
black hair! Why are you here, unhappy woman?"

"Hark! awake not my Urbain; he sleeps there in the next room. Ay, my hair
is indeed wet, and my feet--see, my feet that were once so white, see how
the mud has soiled them. But I have made a vow--I will not wash them till
I have seen the King, and until he has granted me Urbain's pardon. I am
going to the army to find him; I will speak to him as Grandier taught me
to speak, and he will pardon him. And listen, I will also ask thy pardon,
for I read it in thy face that thou, too, art condemned to death. Poor
youth! thou art too young to die, thy curling hair is beautiful; but yet
thou art condemned, for thou hast on thy brow a line that never deceives.
The man thou hast struck will kill thee. Thou hast made too much use of
the cross; it is that which will bring evil upon thee. Thou hast struck
with it, and thou wearest it round thy neck by a hair chain. Nay, hide
not thy face; have I said aught to afflict thee, or is it that thou
lovest, young man? Ah, reassure thyself, I will not tell all this to thy
love. I am mad, but I am gentle, very gentle; and three days ago I was
beautiful. Is she also beautiful? Ah! she will weep some day! Yet, if she
can weep, she will be happy!"

And then suddenly Jeanne began to recite the service for the dead in a
monotonous voice, but with incredible rapidity, still seated on the bed,
and turning the beads of a long rosary.

Suddenly the door opened; she looked up, and fled through another door in
the partition.

"What the devil's that-an imp or an angel, saying the funeral service
over you, and you under the clothes, as if you were in a shroud?"

This abrupt exclamation came from the rough voice of Grandchamp, who was
so astonished at what he had seen that he dropped the glass of lemonade
he was bringing in. Finding that his master did not answer, he became
still more alarmed, and raised the bedclothes. Cinq-Mars's face was
crimson, and he seemed asleep, but his old domestic saw that the blood