I know something of it.
I was driving by the Place de Grêve once, about eleven o’clock in the morning. All of a sudden the carriage stopped.
There was a crowd in the square. I put my head out of the door. Many women and children were standing in the parapets of the quay. Above their heads I could see a species of red scaffold which some workmen were putting together.
A man was to be executed that day, and they were erecting the machine.
I turned away my head as this caught my eye. I heard a woman near me saying, “Look! the knife does not slide well, they are greasing the groove with a bit of candle!”
Probably they are doing that now. Eleven o’clock is just striking. No doubt they are greasing the groove.
Ah! miserable wretch, this time I shall not turn away my head!
CHAPTER XXVII.
Oh, my pardon, my pardon! perhaps I shall be reprieved. The king may interfere. Let them run and fetch my counsel to me; quick, my counsel! I choose the galleys; five years should settle it; or twenty years; or a brand with the red-hot iron: but let me have my life! A convict lives, moves, goes and comes, and sees the bright sun in the heavens.