"Now the troops from the Square, which is in reality rectangular, the shooting butt constituting one of its sides. Then in the grim dawn we wait quietly for what is to come. One after another, we see several automobiles approach, and each time we ask ourselves, 'Is not this the condemned?' "No--they are journalists--officers--_avocats_--and presently a hearse, out of which is lifted the coffin. "The undertakers' men, who presently will proceed to the business of placing the body there, laugh and talk together as they sit and smoke. They are old _habitues!_" "One was cold standing still! It begins to be quite light. The condemned one may arrive at any moment, because the execution has been fixed for exactly at the rising of the sun. "The men of the platoon load their rifles. The number of them is twelve--four sergeants, four corporals, four soldiers. "And then there are the _Chasseurs a pied_." "All of a sudden, two more cars appear, escorted by a company of dragoons. "This time it is She. "They stop--out of the first one, officers descend. The Commissaire of the Government who has, condemned Madame Boleski to death and who had gone a little more than an hour ago to awake her in her cell. The Captain, reporter, and two other Captains. The door of the second auto opens, two gendarmes get out--a Sister of St. Lazare (what a terrible _metier_ for her!)--and then Harietta Boleski! "And at once, accompanied by the nun and followed by the gendarmes, she penetrates into the square of men. "Until now we have been enduring a period of waiting, we have been asking ourselves if it will have an effect upon us--but now we have no more doubt. The effect has begun! "'Present arms!' "All together we render honour to the dead woman--for one considers a person condemned as already dead. And the bugles begin to play the March--_Do sol do do Sol do do, Mi mi mi_-- "They play slowly--very softly and in the minor key. "Harietta Boleski walks quickly, the sister can hardly keep by her side. She is tall, beautiful, very elegant. A large hat with floating lace veil thrown back and splendid earrings. A dark dress--pretty shoes. "She looks at the troops and the _piquet d'execution_ a little disdainfully, and then she smiles gaily--it is almost a titter. The sister taps her gently on the shoulder, as if to recall her to a sense of order, but she makes one careless gesture and walks up to the post. "The bugles are sounding plaintively, slowly and more slowly all the time. "She pauses in front of us--and with us it is now, 'Does this make us feel something?' We must hold ourselves not to grow faint. "To see this woman go by with the trumpets sounding ever. To say to ourselves that in sixty seconds she will be no more. There will be no life in that beautiful body. Ah! that is an emotion, believe me! "Never has the great problem been brought more forcibly before my spirit.