Night came at length, and the surly jailer brought my last supper, which I forced myself to eat.
Then, after a solemn hour spent in prayer, I lay down on my hard bench and slept peacefully as a child.
I had no means of telling the time, but the jailer apparently wakened me earlier than usual, and I was led into a room where, instead of the usual bread and water, a proper breakfast was laid. The apartment was filled with soldiers; and when I had finished, two of them, stepping forward, pinioned my arms tightly behind my back.
It was, as near as I could judge, about ten o'clock when the governor entered, and, after a brief talk with one of the officers, ordered the procession to be formed.
The air was keen, though the sun shone brightly overhead, as we proceeded slowly to the courtyard, where the soldiers halted.
Two other detachments now joined us, and in the midst of each a prisoner walked bareheaded.
They were both officers in Bern's army of Transylvania, so I did not know them, but we exchanged glances of pity and goodwill.
One was an old man with scarred face and white, flowing beard, a veteran Pole, who had spent his life in warfare against the enemies of his country.
His fellow-victim was quite young, hardly older than myself; but he bore himself as proudly as his comrade, gazing at the Austrians without a tremor.
After a delay of ten minutes the arrangements were completed, and the booming of a big gun announced to the townsfolk that the mournful procession was about to issue from the gates of the fortress.