“Will the key turn?”
“Yes, citizen.”
“All secure?”
“Yes, citizen. The prisoner is groaning.”
“Let him groan.”
“The empty coach, citizen? The horses have been taken out.”
“Leave it standing where it is, then; citizen Chauvelin will need it in the morning.”
“Armand,” whispered Marguerite inside the coach, “did you see Percy?”
“It was so dark,” murmured Armand feebly; “but I saw him, just inside the gates, where they had laid him down. I heard him groaning. Oh, my God!”
“Hush, dear!” she said. “We can do nothing more, only die, as he lived, bravely and with a smile on our lips, in memory of him.”