“I, too, should have been unable to tear my eyes away,” said Aglaya. “They do not at all approve of women going to see an execution there. The women who do go are condemned for it afterwards in the newspapers.” “That is, by contending that it is not a sight for women they admit that it is a sight for men. I congratulate them on the deduction. I suppose you quite agree with them, prince?” “Tell us about the execution,” put in Adelaida. “I would much rather not, just now,” said the prince, a little disturbed and frowning slightly. “You don’t seem to want to tell us,” said Aglaya, with a mocking air. “No,—the thing is, I was telling all about the execution a little while ago, and—” “Whom did you tell about it?” “The man-servant, while I was waiting to see the general.” “Our man-servant?” exclaimed several voices at once. “Yes, the one who waits in the entrance hall, a greyish, red-faced man—” “The prince is clearly a democrat,” remarked Aglaya. “Well, if you could tell Aleksey about it, surely you can tell us too.” “I do so want to hear about it,” repeated Adelaida. “Just now, I confess,” began the prince, with more animation, “when you asked me for a subject for a picture, I confess I had serious thoughts of giving you one. I thought of asking you to draw the face of a criminal, one minute before the fall of the guillotine, while the wretched man is still standing on the scaffold, preparatory to placing his neck on the block.” “What, his face? only his face?” asked Adelaida. “That would be a strange subject indeed. And what sort of a picture would that make?” “Oh, why not?” the prince insisted, with some warmth. “When I was in Basle I saw a picture very much in that style—I should like to tell you about it; I will some time or other; it struck me very forcibly.” “Oh, you shall tell us about the Basle picture another time; now we must have all about the execution,” said Adelaida. “Tell us about that face as it appeared to your imagination—how should it be drawn?—just the face alone, do you mean?”