She felt that she was a beautiful woman going to be the chief figure in a wonderfully dramatic scene. Nothing solemn had touched her. Her brain was light and now only filled with cunning and _coqueterie_; she meant to charm her guards and executioners to the last man! And ready at length, she walked nonchalantly out of the prison and into the waiting car which was to carry her to Vincennes. Now the end of all this is best told in the words of a young French soldier who was an eye witness and wrote the whole thing down. To pen the hideous horror I find too difficult a task. "Sunday--11 in the evening. "We had only returned at that moment from our day's leave, when the Lieutenant came to us to announce that we should be of the _piquet_ to-morrow morning for the execution of Madame Boleski, the spy. "He said this to us in his monotonous voice as though he had been saying 'To-morrow--_Revue d'Armes_'--but for us, after a whole day passed far from barracks, it was a rather brusque return to military realities! "At once it became necessary that we look through our accountrements for the show. No small affair! and for more than an hour there was brushing and polishing of straps and buckles. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning before we could turn in. "Many of us could not sleep--we are all between eighteen and nineteen years old, and the idea to see a woman killed agitated us. But little by little the whole band dozed." "Monday morning. "At four o'clock--reveille. We dress in haste in the dark. Ten minutes later we all find ourselves in the courtyard. "'_A droit alignement couvres sur deux_.' "The Lieutenant made the call." * * * * * "The detachment moves off in the night, marching in slow cadence--that step which so peculiarly gives the impression of restrained force and condensed power. "We leave the fort and gain the artillery butts--true landscape of the front! Trenches, stripped trees, abandoned wagons! "And in the middle of all that--our silhouettes of carbines, casques and sacs. "Absolute silence. "We stop--we advance--and suddenly in the dawn which has begun, we arrive at our destination--the execution ground. "'_Cannoniers--halte! Couvres sur deux. A droite alignement_.'" "A rattle of arms. And there in front of us, at hardly fifteen yards, we catch sight of the post. "Up till now we had scarcely felt anything--just startled impressions, almost of curiosity, but now I begin to experience the first strong sensation. "The post! Symbol of all this sinister ceremony. A short post--not higher than one's shoulder! There it stands in front of the shooting butts. And to think that nearly every Monday--" * * * * *