“The keeper carried this request to the governor. He returned with a radiant face. ‘He has refused it,’ he whispered to Louise. Thank God! It means that they will not shoot you in the morning. Otherwise he would not have denied you.”
“Oh, good!” Peggy breathed.
“That morning,” Alice went on after a time, “another beautiful girl, Gabrielle Petiti, was to be shot as a spy. Louise and Charlotte heard her walking to the place of her execution and they heard her cry: ‘Salut! O mon dernier matin!’ (Salute, O my last morning!)”
“Oh!” Peggy whispered.
“And were—” Tillie began.
“No, Louise and Charlotte were not shot.” There was a catch in Alice’s voice. “Because of their loyalty and great bravery they were sent to prison for life.
“Two months and two days before the great war ended Louise died in prison. Charlotte lived on and went back to keeping shop. Perhaps she’s living still.”
“And now perhaps she’s a spy again.” Peggy shuddered with ecstasy. “I’m going to be a spy some day.”
“Alice, my dear,” said Lady Applegate, “that’s no story to tell to a child.”
But Tillie whispered very low, “I—I think it is wonderful, Alice. I—I’d like to kiss you.” And she did.