She faintly shook her fair head.
“Oh no, you could not call it a trial; they dragged me before some tribunal. A servant denounced me, Monsieur.”
“Do you not know, Madame, what this means?”
A spasm of agony contracted her heart.
“No–no—” she stammered.
He very gently laid his hand on her wrist. “We are all condemned to the guillotine,” he said. “We are waiting for that now–the guillotine.”
Incomprehension and confusion showed in the blue eyes of Madame du Barry; her mouth fell open.
“They are going to kill–me?” she asked.
His fingers tightened on her wrist; he answered, and his voice was so low and hoarse that it seemed a whistle in his throat.