ToC The day appointed for the execution was now close at hand, and the prisoner, who seemed to have abandoned all hopes of escape, turned his thoughts entirely from worldly considerations. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. He was wrapped in a loose dressing-gown of light material, and stood near the corner where the women's dresses had just been thrown down, quite out of sight of all the party, except Mrs. Distress, deep-rooted, and age old. ” “Perhaps not,” she answered.
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