A large gendarme caught her collar with his red hand and shook her.
"Keep quiet!"
The nape of her neck struck the wall; her heart was enveloped for a second in the stifling smoke of terror; but it blazed forth again clearly, dispelling the smoke.
"Go!" said the gendarme.
"Fear nothing! There are no tortures worse than those which you endure all your lives!"
"Silence, I say!" The gendarme took her by the arm and pulled her; another seized her by the other arm, and taking long steps, they led her away.
"There are no tortures more bitter than those which quietly gnaw at your heart every day, waste your breast, and drain your power."
The spy came running up, and shaking his fist in her face, shouted:
"Silence, you old hag!"
Her eyes widened, sparkled; her jaws quivered. Planting her feet firmly on the slippery stones of the floor, she shouted, gathering the last remnants of her strength: