The scaffold appears; the carts come to a stop; the guards surround them; I shudder. A more numerous circle of spectators now is about us; most of them laugh, and are amused at this heart-breaking spectacle. Imagine how terrible a situation it was for me, to be in the midst of such a crowd with my mind agitated by thoughts so different. While the executioner and his two attendants were assisting the ladies who were in the first cart to descend, Madame de Noailles's eyes wandered around in search of me. At last she saw me. And now there was a repetition of that first ravishing view I had of her. Her expressive eyes, so sweet, so animated, so heavenly, glanced first up to heaven and then down to earth, and finally were fixed so intently upon me that it might have caused me to be remarked if my neighbours had been more attentive. I pulled my hat down over my eyes, but not so as to prevent my seeing her. I seemed to hear her say, 'Our sacrifice is made. We leave our dear ones; but God in his mercy calls us. Our faith is firm. We shall not forget them when we are in his presence. We give you our thanks, and send our tenderest farewells to them. Jesus Christ, who died for us, is our strength. We die in his arms. Farewell! God grant we may all meet again in heaven. Farewell!' It is impossible to give any idea of her saintly, earnest gestures; there was about her an eloquence so touching that those around me said, 'Ah, see that young woman! How resigned she is! See how she raises her eyes to heaven! See how she is praying! But what good will that do her?' Then on reflection: 'Oh, those wicked parsons!' Having said their last farewells they all descended from the wagon. I was no longer conscious of anything, being at once heart-broken, grieved, and yet comforted. How I thanked God that I had not delayed giving them absolution till this moment! If I had waited till just as they were mounting the scaffold we could not have been so united in the presence of God to ask and receive this great blessing as we had been in the other place; and that also was the most undisturbed moment of the whole route. I leave the spot where I had been standing. I pass round to the opposite side while the others are getting out of the wagon. I find myself in front of the wooden stairway by which they were to mount the scaffold, and against which a tall, rather fat old man with white hair and a kindly face was leaning. He looked like a farmer. Near him was a very resigned-looking woman whom I did not know; next came the Maréchale de Noailles, just opposite me, dressed in black taffeta. She had not yet laid aside mourning for the Maréchal. She was seated on a block of wood or stone which happened to be there, her large eyes fixed. I did not forget to pray for her as I had done for so many others, and especially for the Maréchal and Maréchale de Mouchy. All the others were ranged in two lines on the side facing the Faubourg St. Antoine.