With all rapidity and without a word being exchanged, Salvat's hands had been tied behind his back, his legs had been loosely secured with a cord, and the neckband of his shirt had been cut away.

He had smiled when the others exhorted him to be brave.

He only feared some nervous weakness, and had but one desire, to die like a hero, to remain the martyr of the ardent faith in truth and justice for which he was about to perish.
"They are now drawing up the death certificate in the register," continued Massot in his chattering way.

"Come along, come along to the barriers if you wish a good view....

I turned paler, you know, and trembled far more than he did.