, but she did not attend.
"Sir," she said, "do you know that my sentence is an ignominious one? Do
you know there is fire in the sentence?"

The doctor gave no answer; but, thinking she needed something, bade the
gaoler to bring her wine. A minute later he brought it in a cup, and the
doctor handed it to the marquise, who moistened her lips and then gave
it back. She then noticed that her neck was uncovered, and took out her
handkerchief to cover it, asking the gaoler for a pin to fasten it with.
When he was slow in finding a pin, looking on his person for it, she
fancied that he feared she would choke herself, and shaking her head,
said, with a smile, "You have nothing to fear now; and here is the
doctor, who will pledge his word that I will do myself no mischief."

"Madame," said the gaoler, handing her the pin she wanted, "I beg your
pardon for keeping you waiting. I swear I did not distrust you; if
anyone distrusts you, it is not I."

Then kneeling before her, he begged to kiss her hand. She gave it, and
asked him to pray to God for her. "Ah yes," he cried, sobbing, "with all
my heart." She then fastened her dress as best she could with her hands
tied, and when the gaoler had gone and she was alone with the doctor,
said:--

"Did you not hear what I said, sir? I told you there was fire in my
sentence. And though it is only after death that my body is to be burnt,
it will always be a terrible disgrace on my memory. I am saved the pain
of being burnt alive, and thus, perhaps, saved from a death of despair,
but the shamefulness is the same, and it is that I think of."

"Madame," said the doctor, "it in no way affects your soul's salvation
whether your body is cast into the fire and reduced to ashes or whether
it is buried in the ground and eaten by worms, whether it is drawn on a
hurdle and thrown upon a dung-heap, or embalmed with Oriental perfumes
and laid in a rich man's tomb. Whatever may be your end, your body will
arise on the appointed day, and if Heaven so will, it will come forth
from its ashes more glorious than a royal corpse lying at this moment in
a gilded casket. Obsequies, madame, are for those who survive, not for
the dead."

A sound was heard at the door of the choir. The doctor went to see what
it was, and found a man who insisted on entering, all but fighting with
the executioner. The doctor approached and asked what was the matter.
The man was a saddler, from whom the marquise had bought a carr