The drum beat a roll, and the word was given for silence in the ranks—an order so strictly obeyed, that even the clash of a weapon was unheard, and stepping in front of the line, the Auditeur Militaire read out the sentences. As for me, I heard but the words “Peine afflictive et infamante;” all the rest became confusion, shame, and terror co-mingled; nor did I know that the ceremonial was over, when the troops began to defile, and we were marched back again to our prison quarters.
Chapter XIV. A Surprise And An Escape.
It is a very common subject of remark in newspapers, and as invariably repeated with astonishment by the readers, how well and soundly such a criminal slept on the night before his execution. It reads like a wonderful evidence of composure, or some not less surprising proof of apathy or indifference. I really believe it has as little relation to one feeling as to the other, and is simply the natural consequence of faculties over-strained, and a brain surcharged with blood; sleep being induced by causes purely physical in their nature. For myself, I can say that I was by no means indifferent to life, nor had I any contempt for the form of death that awaited me. As localities, which have failed to inspire a strong attachment, become endowed with a certain degree of interest when we are about to part from them forever, I never held life so desirable as now that I was going to leave it; and yet, with all this, I fell into a sleep so heavy and profound, [pg 634] that I never awoke till late in the evening. Twice was I shaken by the shoulder ere I could throw off the heavy weight of slumber; and even when I looked up, and saw the armed figures around me, I could have laid down once more, and composed myself to another sleep.
The first thing which thoroughly aroused me, and at once brightened up my slumbering senses, was missing my jacket, for which I searched every corner of my cell, forgetting that it had been taken away, as the nature of my sentence was declared “infamante.” The next shock was still greater, when two sapeurs came forward to tie my wrists together behind my back; I neither spoke nor resisted, but in silent submission complied with each order given me.
All preliminaries being completed, I was led forward, preceded by a pioneer, and guarded on either side by two sapeurs of “the guard;” a muffled drum, ten paces in advance, keeping up a low monotonous rumble as we went.
Our way led along the ramparts, beside which ran a row of little gardens, in which the children of the officers were at play. They ceased their childish gambols as we drew near, and came closer up to watch us. I could mark the terror and pity in their little faces as they gazed at me; I could see the traits of compassion with which they pointed me out to each other, and my heart swelled with gratitude for even so slight a sympathy. It was with difficulty I could restrain the emotion of that moment, but with a great effort I did subdue it, and marched on, to all seeming, unmoved. A little further on, as we turned the angle of the wall, I looked back to catch one last look at them. Would that I had never done so! They had quitted the railings, and were now standing in a group, in the act of performing a mimic execution. One, without his jacket, was kneeling on the grass. But I could not bear the sight, and in scornful anger I closed my eyes, and saw no more.
A low whispering conversation was kept up by the soldiers around me. They were grumbling at the long distance they had to march, as the “affair” might just as well have taken place on the glacis as two miles away. How different were my feelings—how dear to me was now every minute, every second of existence; how my heart leaped at each turn of the way, as I still saw a space to traverse, and some little interval longer to live.
“And, mayhap, after all,” muttered one dark-faced fellow, “we shall have come all this way for nothing. There can be no ‘fusillade’ without the general's signature, so I heard the adjutant say; and who's to promise that he'll be at his quarters?”
“Very true,” said another; “he may be absent, or at table.”
“At table!” cried two or three together; “and what if he were?”