He battled impotently against fate, unable even to try to use any means in his possession to get the death sentence commuted, because he was too deeply implicated himself to make any stir. He saw her in the prison after the trial, with the bars between and the warders near. And the awful change in Tier paralysed him with grief. On the morrow she was to die--the usual death of a spy. Her hair was wild and her face without rouge was haggard and wan. She implored him to save her. The frightful pain of knowing that he could do nothing made Ferdinand desperate, and then suddenly he became inspired with an idea. He could at all events remove some of the agony of terror from her, and enable her to go to her death without a hideous scene. He remembered "La Tosca"--the same method might serve again! He managed to whisper to her in broken sentences that she would certainly be saved. The plan was all prepared, he assured her. The rifles would contain blank cartridges, and she must pretend to fall--and afterwards he would come, having bribed every one and made the path smooth. He lied so fervently that Harietta was convinced, her material brain catching at any straw. She must dress herself and look her best, he told her, so as to make an impression upon all the men concerned; and then, when he had to leave her, he arranged with the prison doctor that she might receive a strong _piqure_ of morphine, so that she would be serene. She spent the night dreaming quite happily and at four o'clock was awakened and began to dress. The drug had calmed all her terrors and her dramatic instinct held full sway. She arranged her toilet with the utmost care, using all her arts to beautify herself. In her ears were Stanislass' ruby earrings and she wore Stepan's ring and brooch. Death to her was an impossibility--she had never seen any one die. It was a wonderfully fine part she would have to play, with Ferdinand there really going to save her! That was all! She must even be sweet at last to the poor sister, whom she had snarled at hitherto. If she could only have seen Stepan once more! Stanislass and his broken life and fond devotion never gave her a thought or troubled her at all. After she was free, she would find some means to pay out Hans! She hated him. If it had not been for Hans and his tiresome old higher command with their stupid intrigues, she would still be free. That she had betrayed countries--that she was guilty in any way never presented itself to her mind. All Verisschenzko's passionate indictment had fallen upon unheeding ears. The morphine now left her only sufficiently conscious for fundamental instincts to act.