"Bravely struck, my compatriot. Well parried, my compatriot. That was worthy of my brave colonel. One little moment, Sanson," she pleaded as the burly executioner caught her by the arm.
"You have had twice the allotted time already," he objected; "you are keeping the others waiting."
"One more look, Sanson, just one! Ah, well done, my brave."
"En avant," said the ruthless Sanson.
"Good-by, compatriot," murmured La Liberté, a tear glistening in her eye. The knife descended, and La Liberté was no more.
"Another!" said the insatiable executioner, extending his huge hands towards the cart.
St. Hilaire looked into Madame d'Arlincourt's face. Their eyes met full.
"Madame," he said, "in such a case as this you will pardon me if I precede you," and stepping in front of her he walked quietly up the scaffold.
Meantime Colonel Tournay, with Captain Dessarts at his shoulder and a company of his own troops behind him, had dashed out of a side street into the Place de la Révolution.
Tournay, with the ends of the blood-stained kerchief flapping on his forehead, and the sword wrested from the gendarme waving in his hand, urged his men forward.