She crossed to the table and leaned one hand upon it.
"The blood that I have spilt, and my blood that I am about to shed, are the only sacrifices that I can offer to God," she said. "I have no fears. He knows all, and will forgive."
The warder bowed his head, took a last look round the cell to see that all was well, and left the room.
II
As the door closed Charlotte sank into a chair and buried her face in her hands. The long trial and the incidents that had followed it had been very tiring. She was young and lonely, and her last hour had come. Small wonder then that for a moment she should give way to emotion or that her eyes should brim with the bitter tears of fatigue and disappointment.
Hauer watched her in silence for a little while, and then crossed the narrow room and stood beside her chair.
"Perhaps you would rather be alone?" he said, in a tender voice of pity.
Charlotte raised her shining eyes to his, and a grave smile stole like a shadow to her lips.
"No, no," she exclaimed, holding out a detaining hand, "I have but few moments left to me, and still fewer friends. Stay with me, Monsieur Hauer, if you will, and," she added in a lighter tone, "you may finish the portrait."
He took his painting materials from the table, set up the small portable easel, arranged the palette and brushes in his hand, and commenced his work upon the portrait of the prisoner, which he had begun in the court-house, and which, at her request and by permission of her judges, he was now to be allowed to complete.