"Great God!" muttered Sir Charles Ames hoarsely, catching sight of him. Then, suddenly, he said: "Kate--Lady Fordingbridge--do not look out; for pity's sake do not!" And to his wife he made signs that she should prevent her friend from glancing at the scaffold.
But he was too late! Already she had done so; already she, peering from the window of the coach, her own face masked, had seen the face of the trembling, grinning wretch; and, since gradually the coachman had edged the carriage through the crowd until it was not now ten paces from the platform, he, too, saw her--the woman with her face disguised--glaring at him.
She herself was nearly fainting at this time, yet she could see the headsman grasp his axe and motion to the victim to kneel down and place his head upon the block, and in her agony she raised her hand to her brow. In doing so it struck and loosened the mask, so that it fell off, leaving her face exposed.
And then the crowd's enjoyment culminated!
For he saw the mask fall away from her--he saw her face.
And with a wild scream--a scream that penetrated to the hearts of all in the Place de Grève--he shrieked:
"Kate! Kate! I have seen him! He forgives! He is a prisoner in----" and fell back, dying, into the executioner's arms.
The frenzied brain had failed at last.