“Yes, we shall meet soon, and in the greatest happiness,” answered Trimousette. Her voice trembled a little—she had been less brave about the boy than about anything else. And the duke called out in a pleasant voice, just as if the lad were a full-grown man:
“Au revoir, my comrade!”
The vicomte made his reverence to Madame Elizabeth, who rose and returned it as if the lad were a Marshal of France. In another minute he was springing up the wooden steps, and some women in the crowd began weeping loudly, but were soon quieted by the rude words and blows of the guards. Trimousette did not see what happened next. Her eyes were fixed upon the west, in which the single star was growing more beautifully brilliant every moment.
Then it became the turn of Citizen Belgarde, once known as the Duke of Belgarde. He knelt and kissed Trimousette’s hand and rose and kissed her cheek, saying with a smile:
“I believe with the little lad that God is a gentleman, and has not brought us together only to tear us apart.”
Trimousette answered with the sweet, bright smile which had only been hers since her honeymoon began:
“It is a good belief. Wait for me there,” and pointed toward the star, now shining large and bright in the purple heavens.
Nevertheless, she turned away her head, and two warm tears ran down her cheeks. Most men die as they have lived, and so did Fernand, Duke of Belgarde. After making his reverence to Madame Elizabeth, the duke walked up the rude stairs coolly, his steady tread resounding loudly. Then he shouted out:
“Long live the King!”
There was a sudden crash, some movement and commotion on the scaffold. Then all was over in this world for the Duke of Belgarde, and but little remained for the wife who had ever loved him better than her life.