talking. Oh, yes! She had suffered a heart failure when they set upon her, it seemed, and one of them suggested that they pitch her in the common grave where those who have been chopped lie in la Madeleine. But Henriot demanded that she be put in a three-year concession — she who is a noble dame to lie in a vile pauper's grave ! Better to be buried in the fosse with all the good ones done to death by Robespierre than lie in such a sepulcher — "
"You're sure that she was dead, not fainting?"
"Mais oui, M'sieur. Too sure; too sure! I saw them feel her pulses, flash a light into her eye, and as the crowning infamy burn her little so sweet foot with fire to see if it would blister. Hélas, my little one, my tiny duckling, my sweet pigeon, thou art dead!"
Her wail became wild, high, keen, rose to a frenzied shriek, then failed with very intensity. She fought for breath, mouthed toothless gums as if she sought to bite the agony that racked her, rolled her eyes up till the pupils disappeared beneath the lids; then,
"Buried alive! She screamed in agony of soul and body.
