"With the captain it is only probable, while with me it is certain." "Then listen to me." "I am listening." "The letter is sewn inside my foraging cap." "Good." "You must ask the captain to let you be present at my execution." "I?" "Don't be afraid; it is a curious spectacle. Many people go to see executions just for the fun of it." "I should never have the courage." "Pooh! It is soon over." "Oh! never, never!" "We will say no more about it," said the prisoner; and he began to whistle, "Vive Henri IV." Charles's heart seemed to turn within him, but his resolution was taken. He approached the prisoner again. "Excuse me," he said, "I will do whatever you ask." "What a good boy you are! Thanks." "Only--" "Well?" "You must ask the colonel to let me be present. I should never forgive myself if any one thought that I wanted to--" "Very good; I will ask him. As a fellow-countryman that will be quite natural. Besides, the soldiers do not put on so many airs as the civilians; they have a stern duty to fulfil, and they make it as easy as possible. Where were we?" "You were saying that I must be present at your execution." "Yes, that was it. I shall ask to be allowed to send something to my brother that belongs to me--my foraging cap, for example; that is done every day. Besides, you see, a foraging cap would never be suspected." "No." "Just as they are about to fire I will toss it aside. Do not be in too much of a hurry to pick it up--they might suspect something. But when I am dead--" "Oh!" exclaimed Charles, with a shiver. "Who has a drop of brandy to give my little compatriot? He is cold." "Come here, my pretty boy," said the captain, offering the boy a flask. Charles took a swallow of brandy; not that he was cold, but because he did not wish to betray his feelings. "Thanks, captain," he said. "At your service, boy; at your service. A mouthful, citizen Sainte-Hermine?" "A thousand thanks, captain; I never drink it." Charles returned to the prisoner's side. "Only," continued the latter, "when I am dead, pick it up without seeming to attach more importance to it than it deserves. But you will remember, will you not, that my last wish--and the last wishes of a dying man are sacred--that my last wish is that the letter in it be given to my brother. If the cap bothers you, take out the letter and throw the cap into the first ditch you come to; but the letter--you will not lose the letter?" "No." "You will not mislay it?" "No, no; do not worry." "And you will give it to my brother yourself?" "Yes, myself." "Try to. Then you must tell him how I died, and he will say: 'I had a brave brother; when my turn comes I will die like him'; and, if his turn comes, he will die like me." They had reached a point where two roads branched off; the main road led to the city of Auenheim itself, and the crossroad to the citadel.