"Will you accept this?" she asked timidly, "I—it is all I have to give. If you would care to have it——"
The young man took it tenderly from her and raised it to his lips.
"I shall hold it dearer than all else in the world," he said; "this lock of your beautiful hair."
"Is it beautiful? I used to be very vain of my hair once." She smiled. "If you will keep it," she continued, "and perhaps look at it sometimes, and, when you do, recall the memory of one to whom you were kind—of one who will never forget—who will offer prayers for your welfare and your happiness at the very throne of God——" She brushed away a tear that had crept out unseen upon her cheek, and for the moment her voice failed her.
Sanson moved forward silently and seized her wrist with one hand, while with the other he shook out the short coil of cord which he held.
The blood flamed in Charlotte's cheek, and she shrank back suddenly, dreading some fresh indignity.
"Ah, no!" she exclaimed passionately. "I beg of you! Not that again! I promise you, I will be good!" she reiterated, standing with her hands behind her, like some frightened child expecting punishment, "I will keep still! I will do whatever you tell me. I will not move. Oh, let me be free, for this last hour of my life!"
Hauer approached the executioner. "Surely she has suffered enough already," he said. "Look at her wrists." For the severity of her former bondage had left cruel marks upon the white skin of her delicate arms.
Sanson spoke for the first time. His voice was low and had a tone of refinement which perhaps reassured his listeners.
"You need not be afraid," he said. "I am not rough. I will not hurt you. It is for the best."