Adeline made no reply; she did not hear her companion; she was once more absorbed in thought, she was with her husband.
The old gentleman profited nothing by his offer of his services; but far from taking offence, he felt all the deeper interest in the young woman, who seemed beset by such profound sorrow.
At last they reached Paris, and the carriage stopped. Adeline alighted hastily, took her child in her arms, and paid the driver; then she bowed to her companion, and disappeared before the old gentleman had had time to put his foot on the little stool which a street urchin had placed on the ground to help him to alight from the vehicle.
“Poor young woman!” said the old man, looking in the direction in which Adeline had disappeared; “how she runs! how excited she seems! dear me! I hope that she will not learn any bad news.”
Adeline went as fast as it is possible to go when one has a child in one’s arms. She asked the way to the Conciergerie; it was pointed out to her, and she hurried on without stopping. Love and anxiety redoubled her strength; she drew near at last; she saw a square—it was that in front of the Palais de Justice.
That square was surrounded by people; the crowd was so dense that one could hardly walk.
“And I must pass through,” said Adeline sadly to herself; “well, as there is no other road, I must make one last effort and try to force my way through.”
But why had so many people assembled there? Was it a fête-day, some public rejoicing? Had some charlatan established his travelling booth there? Was that multitude attracted by singers or jugglers, with their music or their tricks? No, it was none of those things; our Parisian idlers would show less interest, if it were a matter of pleasant diversion only. It was an execution which was to take place; several miserable wretches were to be branded, and exposed to public view upon the fatal stool of repentance; and it was to gaze on that spectacle, distressing to mankind, that those children, those young maidens, those old men, hastened thither so eagerly! Are you surprised to hear it? Do you not know that La Grève is crowded, that the windows which look on the square are rented, when a criminal is to undergo capital punishment there? And whom do we see gloat with the greatest avidity over these ghastly spectacles? Women, young women, whose faces are instinct with gentleness and sensitiveness.—What takes place in the depths of the human heart, if this excess of stoicism is to be found in a weak and timid sex?
But let us do justice to those who shun such abhorrent spectacles, and who cannot endure to look upon an execution. Adeline was one of these; she did not know what was about to happen on the square, and she paid no attention to the cries of the mob that surrounded her.
“Here they come! here they come!” cried the people; “ah! just wait and see what faces they will make in a minute, when they feel the red hot iron!”