"It will soon be seven o'clock," replied the officer, in a sad, compassionate tone.
"Oh, sir," exclaimed Staps, "do not pity me! I shall die joyfully. But I have a favor to ask of you. I should like to send my last love-greetings to my father, and the young lady to whom I was engaged. Will you be kind enough to send my letters to them? You hesitate? Reply to me, and consider that a dying man always should be told the truth."
"Well, sir," replied the officer, "I am not permitted to forward these letters to them. Not a word is to be said about your fate; it must remain a secret."
"Ah, the tyrant is afraid lest my destiny should become generally known. He wishes to hide it in obscurity; but my name, and that for which I die, will not sink into oblivion. The day of freedom will dawn yet on my native land, and my grave will be known and visited by my German brethren. You will not forward my letters?"
"I am not allowed to do so, sir."
"Well, then I will forward them myself," exclaimed Staps, drawing the letters from his belt and tearing them into small pieces, which he threw away. "Go! my greetings and adieus!" he said; "let the winds bear ye into the quiet parsonage of my old father, and the chamber of my faithful Anna! Tell my countrymen of poor Frederick Staps, who wished to save Germany, and could only die for it!—Now come, sir, let us go!"
"You have no other wish?" asked the officer. "There is nothing that you desire, and that I could grant you?"
"Yes, sir, there is. I do not wish to be tied like a wild beast, but conducted to the place of execution with my arms free; I do not wish to be blindfolded. I would like to see the soil and the sky of my country in the last moment!"
"That wish will be granted. You shall be executed with your eyes open, and your arms unfettered."
"Thank you," said Staps, cordially grasping the officer's hand. "I suppose it is time for us to go?"