"Is that absolutely true?" asked the widow of Martial, in a tone of angry surprise.
"Mother, when did I ever tell you a falsehood?"
"You are doing so now to try and put me into a passion!"
"What, displeased to learn that your children are provided for?"
"Yes, to find that my young wolves are to be turned into lambs, and to hear that the blood of father, mother, and sister have no prospect of being avenged!"
"Do not talk so—at a moment like this!"
"I have murdered, and am murdered in my turn,—the account is even, at any rate."
"Mother, mother, let me beseech you to repent ere you die!"
Again a peal of fiendish laughter burst from the pallid lips of the condemned woman.
"For thirty years," cried she, "have I lived in crime; would you have me believe that thirty years' guilt is to be repented of in three days, with the mind disturbed and distracted by the near approach of death? No, no, three days cannot effect such wonders; and I tell you, when my head falls its last expression will be rage and hatred!"