‘The greffier has told it to me, but not formally,’ she said. ‘I am prepared for everything. See—take my hand; is it trembling?’
Pirot seized the small hand presented to him: Marie had power over every muscle to keep it immovable; but her skin was hot and fevered.
‘You have heard that they were going to cut this hand off,’ she said.
‘So they have told me,’ replied Pirot, in a low tone, almost choked with emotion.
‘It is,’ she said, ‘but an idle story of the people about the prison. On that point you can be calm. And, see,—they are bringing in my supper. You must take some with me; it is the last, you know.’
Pirot gazed at her, as he listened to the calm manner in which she spoke, with unfeigned astonishment; and ere he could reply, some of the attendants had brought in a tray and placed it on the table; whilst Marie almost led the doctor to one of the rude settles, and placed herself opposite to him.
There was something terrible in her unconcern. Her face preserved its usual unfathomable expression, and at times she smiled; but an unwonted brightness sparkled in her eyes, and she spoke in loud and rapid tones, somewhat resembling a person under the first influence of opium. As she took her place at the table, she did the honours of the homely repast as though she had been at the head of a party in her own house; she even partook of some of the dishes; but Pirot was too much overcome to swallow a morsel.
‘You will let me drink to your health,’ she said; ‘it is a compliment you need not return.’ And with her own hands she filled Pirot’s glass, continuing, as he bowed to her, ‘To-morrow is a fast-day. I will keep it so—at least, as much of it as I shall enjoy. And yet I have much to undergo.’ Then altering her voice, she added, ‘I would pay you more attention, my father, and serve you myself; but you see they have left me neither knife nor fork.’
And in this singular manner did she continue to talk until the meal was over, when she appeared anxious that Pirot should take her confession. He had writing things with him, and at her request produced them, as she said—
‘Alas! I have committed so many sins that I cannot trust to the accuracy of a verbal catalogue. But you shall know all.’