ore her, he took off her shoes
and stockings. Then she stretched out her hands to the doctor.

"Oh, sir," she cried, "in God's name, you see what they have done to me!
Come and comfort me."

The doctor came at once, supporting her head upon his breast, trying to
comfort her; but she, in a tone of bitter lamentation, gazing at the
crowd, who devoured her with all their eyes, cried, "Oh, sir, is not this
a strange, barbarous curiosity?"

"Madame," said he, the tears in his eyes, "do not look at these eager
people from the point of view of their curiosity and barbarity, though
that is real enough, but consider it part of the humiliation sent by God
for the expiation of your crimes. God, who was innocent, was subject to
very different opprobrium, and yet suffered all with joy; for, as
Tertullian observes, He was a victim fattened on the joys of suffering
alone."

As the doctor spoke these words, the executioner placed in the marquise's
hands the lighted torch which she was to carry to Notre-Dame, there to
make the 'amende honorable', and as it was too heavy, weighing two
pounds, the doctor supported it with his right hand, while the registrar
read her sentence aloud a second time. The doctor did all in his power
to prevent her from hearing this by speaking unceasingly of God. Still
she grew frightfully pale at the words, "When this is done, she shall be
conveyed on a tumbril, barefoot, a cord round her neck, holding in her
hands a burning torch two pounds in weight," and the doctor could feel no
doubt that in spite of his efforts she had heard. It became still worse
when she reached the threshold of the vestibule and saw the great crowd
waiting in the court. Then her face worked convulsively, and crouching
down, as though she would bury her feet in the earth, she addressed the
doctor in words both plaintive and wild: "Is it possible that, after what
is now happening, M. de Brinvilliers can endure to go on living?"

"Madame," said the doctor, "when our Lord was about to leave His
disciples, He did not ask God to remove them from this earth, but to
preserve them from all sin. 'My Father,' He said, 'I ask not that You
take them from the world, but keep them safe from evil.' If, madame, you
pray for M. de Brinvilliers, let it be only that he may be kept in grace,
if he has it, and may attain to it if he has it not."

But the words were useless: at that moment the humiliation was too great
and too public; her face c