“I told him that I was Gilbert’s mother and I asked him whether, by proclaiming my son’s identity, we could not influence the result . . . or at least delay it.”
“You would do that?” he whispered. “You would admit....”
“Gilbert’s life comes before everything. What do I care about my name! What do I care about my husband’s name!”
“And your little Jacques?” he objected. “Have you the right to ruin Jacques, to make him the brother of a man condemned to death?”
She hung her head. And he resumed:
“What did the counsel say?”
“He said that an act of that sort would not help Gilbert in the remotest degree. And, in spite of all his protests, I could see that, as far as he was concerned, he had no illusions left and that the pardoning commission are bound to find in favour of the execution.”
“The commission, I grant you; but what of the president of the Republic?”
“The president always goes by the advice of the commission.”
“He will not do so this time.”