"You have just come from the country, perhaps, and have not mixed in the Parisian world for some time. What you take for indifference is in reality mere habit. You cannot change the French people. The moment they find a struggle useless, they gaily make the best of it. Believe me, their seeming frivolity only masks the resignation of a Stoic. There are still rebellious and desperate spirits to be found, but they are in a minority. The majority are heart-sick and ready to go, that is, to die; and they do die with a smile on their lips, French to the last!" Voices and sounds of applause interrupted the marquise, and cries of "Bravo! Bravo! That was very good!" were heard. A young girl, her arms tied behind her back, was bowing from the top of a ladder on which she was standing, and to which she had mounted by the aid of chairs and stools placed upon tables and benches. As she tried to descend all arms proffered assistance, and when she had reached the ground another lady came forward, the Marquise d'Avaux, whom Madame de Choiseul named to Olivier, and began to climb the improvised ascent with faltering steps. Clarisse, Thérèse, and Olivier watched this performance, understanding nothing of it. Madame de Choiseul looked at them to note their expression, and with one accord the three turned to question her-- "That is a new game, is it not?" "Yes, and a rather gloomy one," answered Madame de Choiseul. Then she added solemnly, "Those ladies are learning how to walk to the scaffold." She explained to them that the wooden steps which the condemned had to climb to reach the guillotine were difficult to ascend. The women encountered serious obstacles in mounting, being without the assistance of their hands, which were tied behind them. They stumbled and slipped, their dresses sometimes catching in the woodwork, to the great amusement of the rabble crowd. "It is to avoid these accidents," she said, "and to be able to meet their martyrdom respected by the mob, that they rehearse the role which they may be called upon to play on the morrow, perhaps, in public." Olivier was dumb with admiration before this contempt of the scaffold, the general resignation to the thought of death. Presently peals of laughter were heard. The Marquise d'Avaux, just before reaching the last stool, caught her dress on the back of a chair. She laughed with the rest, and said gaily, showing her torn skirt-- "Some more work for this evening!" "You see," continued Madame de Choiseul, "what the indifference which revolted you so much just now hides in reality. Many of those young women keep up the failing courage of the men at the scaffold, and offer to die first."