Under Sentence of Death; Or, a Criminal's Last Hours — John Shaqi
Under Sentence of Death; Or, a Criminal's Last HoursHugo, Victor
General
Under Sentence of Death; Or, a Criminal's Last Hours
Hugo, Victor
French fiction -- Translations into English
These few words, like the web of the spider that intercepts the flight
of the fly, threw me roughly back into every-day life. On a sudden I
again saw, as in a flash of lightning, the court of justice, the table
before the judges, strewn with blood-stained rags, the three ranks of
witnesses with their expressionless faces, the two gendarmes at each
side of the dock, the black gowns of the bar constantly moving to and
fro, the heads of the crowd thronged together in the body of the court,
and the fixed gaze of the twelve jurymen, who had watched whilst I had
slept.
I rose up, my teeth chattered, my hands trembled so that I could hardly
gather together my clothes, my legs bent under me. At the first step
that I attempted to take I staggered like a porter whose load is too
heavy for him. However, I nerved myself, and followed my gaoler.
The two gendarmes were waiting for me on the threshold of my cell. They
handcuffed me again. It was rather a complicated lock, which they had
some trouble in closing. I submitted passively—it was a machine put
into a machine.
We passed through one of the inner courtyards; the fresh air of the
morning gave me strength. I raised my head. The sky was of a bright
blue, and the warm sunbeams, broken by the lofty chimneys, traced great
angular lines of light on the tall and gloomy walls of the prison. In
truth it was very beautiful.
We mounted a spiral staircase, we passed through one corridor, then
another, and again through a third; then a low door was opened. A warm
breath of air, and the sound of voices met me; it was the murmuring of
the crowd in the court. I entered.
On my appearance there was a clang of arms and a confused sound of
voices, seats were noisily pushed aside, and as I passed through the
long room between the lines of spectators, kept in position by soldiers,
it seemed as if I were the centre point upon which every eye was fixed.
At that instant I perceived that my irons had been removed, but when and
how I knew not.
Then there was a deep silence. I had reached my appointed place. As the
disturbance ceased in the crowd, so my ideas grew clearer. I understood
what I had before only vaguely surmised—that the decisive moment had
arrived, and that I had been brought into court to hear my sentence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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