But now she understood him less than before, for he only smiled wearily. It was, then, something else than fear that had broken him so.
Escape? And that guard in the corridor? Passing, ever passing, the diabolical humorist seemed to chuckle inwardly, as though to stand death-watch were the most exquisite of jokes.
“That man?” whispered Jacqueline. “Why, that’s Don Tiburcio. He was driven out of the Imperialist ranks by Father Fischer. But from his lips, this very night, Your Highness will hear that the road is open to Vera Cruz. Ah 467sire–monsieur–we have been working, we others. There will be horses ready, there will be a long ride, and then, you will safely board an Austrian ship waiting for you.”
Maximilian slowly shook his head. “No,” he said, “I am ready to die, as–as ready as I shall ever be.”
“But the remaining years of your natural life, Your Highness counts them as nothing! Yet you might live twice your present age!”
“My life–over again,” he murmured dreamily.
“Of course, why not?”
“One year to redeem each year that has gone.”
“Years of Destiny!” she cried, thinking to touch him there.
“No!” he exclaimed, so harshly and quick that it startled her. “But for me they will be years of dearest mercy. Wait, tell me first, Miramon and Mejía––”