And now again the hollow roll of the drums drowned his voice.
"He dies! He dies, and I am not with him!" cried she, with a shriek; and she gathered herself up, and as if borne by a whirlwind she dashed out of the room, through the corridor, and down the stairs.
There she stood in the court.

That dreadful black pile above there, in the midst of this square crowded with men--that was the scaffold.
Yonder she beheld him prostrate on his knees.

She beheld the axe in the headsman's hand; she saw him raise it for the fatal stroke.
She was a woman no longer, but a lioness! Not a drop of blood was in her cheeks.

Her nostrils were expanded and her eyes darted lightning.
She drew out a dagger that she had concealed in her bosom, and made a path through the amazed, frightened, yielding crowd.
With one spring she had rushed up the steps of the scaffold.

She now stood by him on the top of it--close by that kneeling figure.
There was a flash through the air.