Pirot took the letter from her hand, and read as follows—thinking it best to allow the violence of Marie’s grief to have full play, rather than to attempt to check it by any reasoning of his own:—
‘For the last time, Antoine, and on the point of delivering up my soul to God, I write to you, wishing to assure you of my friendship, which will continue until the latest moment of my life. I am about to suffer the degrading punishment my enemies have condemned me to. Forgive them, I beseech you, as I have done: and forgive me also, for the shame which, through my actions, will fall upon your name. Remember that we are but on earth for a short period; and that, before long, you yourself may have to render a just account to God of all your actions, even the most insignificant, as I shall have to do in a few hours. Instruct and watch over our poor children: Madame Marillac and Madame Cousté will inform you of all they will require. Let your prayers be continually offered up for my repose, and believe that I die thinking of you only.
‘Marie.’
He had scarcely concluded the epistle when the Marchioness recovered from the access of emotion, and raised her face towards him, as she hurriedly wiped her eyes.
‘This is childish,’ she exclaimed. ‘What must you think of me, monsieur? And yet I would sooner you should have witnessed this weak ebullition than others in the prison. Come, sir, we will pray for the forgiveness of those under whose directions and hands I am about to suffer, and for the salvation of my own soul.’
She threw open the leaves of a religious book that was lying on the bench, and prayed long and earnestly. Pirot joined her: and thus they continued for more than an hour, until their devotions were interrupted by the arrival of the concierge and one or two officers, who came to announce to her that the chief greffier was waiting in the lower room to read the sentence of the Court to her. Upon this she arose, without betokening any fresh emotion, and wrapping a cloak about her, accompanied by Pirot, preceded and followed by the people of the prison, she quitted her cell.
They descended some steps, and led her into a low arched room, but dimly lighted by a few glimmering lamps suspended in iron frames from the ceiling. The walls were damp and rugged; and an old and half-obscure painting of a holy family was suspended at the end of the room. Under this was a common wooden prie-dieu, such as we now see in the foreign churches, and near it some rude chairs and a table, on which were materials for writing; and around it three or four of the judicial functionaries were sitting, being now joined by Pirot. Opposite to this, against the wall, was a low pile of what was apparently furniture, covered entirely with a black tarpaulin, and on the ground, near that, some brass and earthen vessels full of water. The things here enumerated comprised all that was movable in the dungeon.
As Marie entered one of the magistrates made a sign to the concierge, who placed a seat for her near the table; and when she had taken it the examination commenced. It was conducted by the officials in turn, many questions being suggested by Pirot, and to all of them the Marchioness replied with the most extraordinary coolness and self-possession, although with a caution which astounded her interrogators—avowing the fact of having administered certain drugs to her father and others, but denying all knowledge of their composition or antidotes—and also vehemently declaring that she had no accomplices in the crimes with which she was charged. But beyond this they could extract nothing from her; and although the combined ingenuity of her examiners, deeply versed as they were in every kind of method by which any confession might be educed, was exerted against her during a protracted sitting, she met every question with an exculpatory reply, and nothing more could be obtained from her.[23]
Seeing this, the examination was at length brought to a conclusion, and one of the interrogators gave orders that the chief greffier should read the arrest. The functionary hereon rose from his seat with the paper in his hand, and commenced reading it in a hurried voice, as if it were a task he was anxious to bring to a speedy conclusion. The arrest was to the effect that the Court of the Chambers assembled having found Marie-Marguerite d’Aubray, the wife of the Marquis of Brinvilliers, guilty of the crimes attributed to her, condemned her to do penance before the principal door of Notre Dame, with a lighted torch in her hand weighing two pounds; and there, whilst on her knees, to confess that she had wilfully poisoned her father and brothers, and to demand pardon of God. And having been brought hither on a tumbrel, with her feet naked, and a cord about her neck, she should be carried on to the Place de Grêve, to have her head cut off upon a scaffold erected for that purpose; after which her body should be burned, and the ashes scattered to the wind: the question—both ordinary and extraordinary—first being applied. The document went on to speak of the confiscation of her property, which was to go partly to the king, partly to defray the expenses of the prosecutions connected with the affair, including that of Lachaussée; and the residue for masses to be said in the chapel of the Conciergerie, for the repose of the souls of her victims.
During the reading of this paper Marie continued to preserve the same self-possession, even interrogating the greffier with a calm, unshaken voice, upon certain points connected with it. As the functionary concluded the magistrates rose, and another man advanced, of whose presence Marie had not been before aware. He was tall and pale, and he wore a tight fitting dress of unrelieved black. Marie perceived by the cords in his hands that he was the executioner; and to him alone she now belonged.
As the magistrates quitted the chamber he drew away the black cloth that covered the apparatus of torture, and revealed the ghastly paraphernalia. Pirot whispered a few words of encouragement in her ear, and then followed the others, leaving Marie alone with the executioner and the greffier, who remained at the table to take down the answers of the prisoner. Marie glanced at the vessels of water which stood upon the ground. She knew the nature of the terrible ordeal she was about to undergo, but her courage failed her not.