Martial entered the cell, the door of which was left open that those without in the corridor might be within hearing, if summoned by the old soldier, who still remained with the prisoners. Through the gloom of the corridor, lighted only by the faint beams of the early morning, and the dubious twinkling of a single lamp, several soldiers and gaolers might be seen, the former standing in due military order, the later sitting on benches. Martial looked as pale and ghastly as his mother, while his features betrayed the mental agony he suffered at witnessing so afflicting a sight. Still, spite of all it cost him, as well as the recollection of his mother's crimes and openly expressed aversion for himself, he had felt it imperatively his duty to come and receive her last commands. No sooner was he in the dungeon than the widow, fixing on him a sharp, penetrating look, said, in a tone of concentrated wrath and bitterness, with a view to rouse all the evil passions of her son's mind: "Well, you see what the good people are going to do with your mother and sister!" "Ah, mother, how dreadful! Alas, alas! Have I not warned you that such would be the end--" Interrupting him, while her lips became blanched with rage, the widow exclaimed: "Enough! 'Tis sufficient that your mother and sister are about to be murdered, as your father was!" "Merciful God!" cried Martial. "And to think that I have no power to prevent it! 'Tis past all human interference. What would you have me do? Alas! Had you or my sister attended to what I said, you would not now have been here." "Oh, no doubt!" returned the widow, with her usual tone of savage irony. "To you the spectacle of mine and your sister's sufferings is a matter of delight to your proud heart; you can now tell the world without a lie that your mother is dead,--you will have to blush for her no more!" "Had I been wanting in my duty as a son," answered Martial, indignant at the unjust sarcasms of his mother, "I should not now be here." "You came but from curiosity! Own the truth if you dare!" "No, mother! You desired to see me, and I obeyed your wish." "Ah, Martial," cried Calabash, unable longer to struggle against the agonising terror she endured, "had I but listened to your advice, instead of being led by my mother, I should not be here!" Then losing all further control of herself, she exclaimed, "'Tis all your fault, accursed mother! Your bad example and evil counsel have brought me to what I am!" "Do you hear her?" said the widow, bursting into a fiendish laugh. "Come, this will repay you for the trouble of paying us a last visit! Your excellent sister has turned pious, repents of her own sins, and curses her mother!" Without making any reply to this unnatural speech, Martial approached Calabash, whose dying agonies seemed to have commenced, and, regarding her with deep compassion, said: "My poor sister! Alas, it is now too late to recall the past!"