An officer read his sentence. When this was over, the count affectionately embraced the missionary, did the same to Valentine, and whispered in his ear,—
"Remember!"
"Yes," the latter said in an inarticulate voice.
Then came the turn of Doña Angela. They remained for a long time in a close embrace, and then separated as if by mutual agreement.
"Though separated on the earth, we shall soon be united in heaven. Courage, my beloved!" she said with exaltation.
He replied to her with a smile which had nothing earthly about it.
Father Seraphin and Valentine fell back about fifteen paces, knelt down on the ground, and folded their hands in prayer. Doña Angela, with the cowl still over her face, placed herself only a few paces from the general, who watched all the preparations for the execution with a triumphant smile.
The count looked around him to assure himself that his friends had retired, took a step forward nearer the firing party, from which he was only eight yards, and laying his hands behind his hack, with head erect, a smile on his lips, and a resolute glance, he called out in a clear, impressive voice,—
"Come, my brave fellows, do your duty! Aim at the heart!"
Then a strange event occurred. The officer stammered as he gave the order to fire; and the soldiers, firing one after the other, did not hit the sufferer.