What poise!" exclaimed a young officer behind the lawyer, admiring Freya's serenity.
Upon approaching the post, some one read a brief document, a summary of the sentence,--three lines to apprise her that justice was about to be fulfilled.
The only thing about this rapid notification that annoyed her was the fear that the trumpets and drums would cease.

But they continued sounding and their martial music was as comforting to her ears as a very intoxicating wine slipping through her lips.
A platoon of corporals and soldiers (twelve rifles) detached themselves from the double military mass.

A sub-officer with a blond beard, small, delicate, was commanding it with an unsheathed sword.

Freya contemplated him a moment, finding him interesting, while the young man avoided her glance.
With the gesture of a tragedy queen, she repelled the white handkerchief that they were offering her to bandage her eyes.

She did not need it.