“Condemned to Death.”
Etched by R. de los Rios.—From drawing by François Flameng.
THE LAST DAY OF A CONDEMNED.
FIRST PAPER.
Bicêtre Prison.
CONDEMNED to death!
These five weeks have I dwelt with this idea,—always alone with it, always frozen by its presence, always bent under its weight.
Formerly (for it seems to me rather years than weeks since I was free) I was a being like any other; every day, every hour, every minute had its idea. My mind, youthful and rich, was full of fancies, which it developed successively, without order or aim, but weaving inexhaustible arabesques on the poor and coarse web of life. Sometimes it was of youthful beauties, sometimes of unbounded possessions, then of battles gained, next of theatres full of sound and light, and then again the young beauties, and shadowy walks at night beneath spreading chestnut-trees. There was a perpetual revel in my imagination: I might think on what I chose,—I was free.