Immediately the storm relaxed and the rain diminished. It was as if they had come only to insure the success of what my friends and I had so ardently desired. I blessed God for it, and they did the same. Their appearance showed contentment, security, and cheerfulness.
As we advanced into the Faubourg the eager crowds fell back upon the two sides of the street. They insulted the first ladies, especially the Maréchale; nothing was said to the other two. Sometimes I preceded and sometimes I accompanied the wagons. After passing the Abbey de St. Antoine I met a young man whom I had formerly known; he was a priest whom I had some reason to suspect, and his presence annoyed me. I was afraid of being recognized, but happily I was not; he turned aside, and I did not see him again.
Finally, we arrived at the fatal spot; what went on within me cannot be described. What a moment! What a separation, what grief for the husbands, the children, the sisters, the relatives and friends who should survive them in this vale of tears! 'I see them,' I thought, 'still full of health; they would have been so useful to their families, and in a moment I shall see them no more. How heart-rending it is! But what a great comfort to us to see them so resigned!'
The scaffold appears; the carts come to a stop; the guards surround them; I shudder. A more numerous circle of spectators now is about us; most of them laugh, and are amused at this heart-breaking spectacle. Imagine how terrible a situation it was for me, to be in the midst of such a crowd with my mind agitated by thoughts so different.
While the executioner and his two attendants were assisting the ladies who were in the first cart to descend, Madame de Noailles's eyes wandered around in search of me. At last she saw me. And now there was a repetition of that first ravishing view I had of her. Her expressive eyes, so sweet, so animated, so heavenly, glanced first up to heaven and then down to earth, and finally were fixed so intently upon me that it might have caused me to be remarked if my neighbours had been more attentive. I pulled my hat down over my eyes, but not so as to prevent my seeing her. I seemed to hear her say, 'Our sacrifice is made. We leave our dear ones; but God in his mercy calls us. Our faith is firm. We shall not forget them when we are in his presence. We give you our thanks, and send our tenderest farewells to them. Jesus Christ, who died for us, is our strength. We die in his arms. Farewell! God grant we may all meet again in heaven. Farewell!'
It is impossible to give any idea of her saintly, earnest gestures; there was about her an eloquence so touching that those around me said, 'Ah, see that young woman! How resigned she is! See how she raises her eyes to heaven! See how she is praying! But what good will that do her?' Then on reflection: 'Oh, those wicked parsons!' Having said their last farewells they all descended from the wagon.
I was no longer conscious of anything, being at once heart-broken, grieved, and yet comforted. How I thanked God that I had not delayed giving them absolution till this moment! If I had waited till just as they were mounting the scaffold we could not have been so united in the presence of God to ask and receive this great blessing as we had been in the other place; and that also was the most undisturbed moment of the whole route.
I leave the spot where I had been standing. I pass round to the opposite side while the others are getting out of the wagon. I find myself in front of the wooden stairway by which they were to mount the scaffold, and against which a tall, rather fat old man with white hair and a kindly face was leaning. He looked like a farmer. Near him was a very resigned-looking woman whom I did not know; next came the Maréchale de Noailles, just opposite me, dressed in black taffeta. She had not yet laid aside mourning for the Maréchal. She was seated on a block of wood or stone which happened to be there, her large eyes fixed. I did not forget to pray for her as I had done for so many others, and especially for the Maréchal and Maréchale de Mouchy. All the others were ranged in two lines on the side facing the Faubourg St. Antoine.
I looked around for the ladies; I could only see the mother. Her attitude was that of devotion,—simple, noble, and resigned. Entirely occupied with the sacrifice she was about to offer to God through the merits of the Saviour, his divine son, her eyes were closed; she showed no anxiety, not even as much as when formerly she had had the privilege of approaching the sacred table. I shall never forget the impression she made upon me then. I often picture her to myself in that attitude. God grant that I may profit by it.
The Maréchale de Noailles was the third to mount the altar of sacrifice. It was necessary to cut away the upper part of the neck of her dress so as to expose her throat. I felt as if I could not stand and see it all; yet I wished to drink the cup to the dregs and keep my word, if only God would grant me strength to keep my senses in the face of such a terrible sight.