"Mercy, General, for the poor condemned prisoner!"
"With God only there is mercy."
Again the sergeant-major raises the tip of his palm to the cord of his shako and makes his petition.
"Mercy, General, for the poor condemned criminal!"
A third time he utters his appeal.
"With God only there is mercy," is the General's reply.
The little white staff falls to the ground broken in two. The condemned man gives a sigh of relief, thanks the gentlemen present for the trouble they have taken, the good sergeant-major for interceding on his behalf, and the rigorous judge for pronouncing over him the sentence of the law.
Then they take him away to the house of mourning, give him a white uniform to put on, and set meat and drink before him that he may eat and drink for the last time.
That day the iron man was afraid to go to his own quarters.
Suppose Cornelia were to ask him what sentence he had pronounced upon the son of his enemy?