"My dear Cajetan, why do you weep?" asked Hofer, pressing Doeninger's head gently to his heart. "Did you weep when I went into battle, where the enemy's bullets might have hit me at any second? You did not weep then. Think, therefore, that I am going into battle to-day too, and that it is better for me to be hit by the bullets than suffer any longer in this manner."
At this moment the door opened, and the priest, Giovanni Giacomo Manifesti, dressed in full vestments, came in. The guards who followed him led away Doeninger, who obeyed them in silence, as if stunned by his terrible grief. [Footnote: Cajetan Doeninger was taken immediately after Hofer's execution, from his prison, and sent to the Island of Corsica, as a private in a regiment of light infantry. He succeeded, some time afterward, in escaping from thence, and returning to his native country.]
Andreas Hofer remained alone with his confessor.
At eleven o'clock the doors of the prison were thrown open, and Andreas Hofer was led out to execution. His face was serene, and in his hands he held the small crucifix which he had always worn on his breast. His confessor, Manifesti, walked by his side, and a battalion of grenadiers followed him.
Andreas Hofer walked along the ramparts of the fortress with a firm step. As he passed by the barracks of the Porta Molina, where the Tyrolese prisoners were confined, they fell on their knees and wept aloud. Andreas turned quickly to Manifesti the, priest. "Your reverence," he said, "you will distribute among my poor countrymen the five hundred florins, my last property, which I gave to you, will you not?"
"I will, my son."
"And take my greetings to all," said Andreas Hofer, in a grave, loud voice, "and tell them not to be disheartened, nor to think that all is lost, and that we have fought and bled in vain. Better times will dawn upon my beloved Tyrol, and one day it will be again a free German country. Tell them to hope and believe in this prediction."
On the broad bastion, a little distance from the Porta Ceresa, the grenadiers formed a square, open in the rear. Andreas Hofer entered this open space with the priest, bowed kindly to all sides, and prayed aloud with the priest.
"Now, farewell, dear reverend father," he then said, "and accept this crucifix as a souvenir from me. I have worn it on my breast for twenty years past, and it will remind you of Andreas Hofer. Inform my wife that I suffered death joyously, and that I know we shall meet again above. You promised me to do so, and you will redeem your promise, reverend father, will you not?"
"Certainly I will, my beloved, pious son," said Manifesti; and with tears in his eyes he embraced and blessed Andreas Hofer for the last time. [Footnote: Manifesti redeemed his promise. He sent to the Tyrol the following letter regarding Hofer's death: