He entered the carriage in waiting.  Miramon and Mejia followed him, with the priest who attended them in their last moments.  They were escorted by a body of four thousand men, and were driven to the same rocky height on which they had been captured, called the Cerro della Campana.  They sat upright in the carriage during the drive, with proud smiles upon their faces.  They were carefully dressed, as if for an occasion of festivity.  The population of the place was all abroad to see them pass, and looked at them with silent pity and admiration.  The calmness and self-possession of the emperor, about to die, touched even the most indifferent spectators.  The women freely shed tears.

Maximilian was a handsome, striking-looking man.  His beautiful light hair was parted by a straight line from his forehead to the nape of his neck.  His blue eyes were clear and soft, with a beseeching look in them.  His hands were beautifully white, his fingers elegant and taper.

As they neared the place of execution, General Mejia suddenly turned pale, covered his face, and with a sob fell back in his place in the carriage.  He had caught sight of his wife, agonized, dishevelled, with her baby in her arms, and all the appearance of a madwoman.

The party arrived at the foot of the little hill.  The emperor sprang out, brushed off some dust which had settled on his clothes, and going up to the firing party, gave each man an ounce of gold.  “Take good aim, my friends,” he said.  “Do not, if possible, hit me in the face, but shoot right at my heart.”

One of the soldiers wept.  Maximilian went to him, and putting his cigar-case, of silver filigree, into his hand, said:  “Keep that, my friend, in remembrance of me.  It was given to me by a prince more fortunate than I am now.”

The non-commissioned officer then came near, and said he hoped that he would forgive him.  “My good fellow,” replied Maximilian, cheerfully, “a soldier has but to obey orders; his duty is to do his duty.”

Then, turning to Miramon and Mejia, he said:  “Let me, true friends, embrace you for the last time!” He did so, and then added:  “In a few minutes we shall be together in a better world.”

Turning to Miramon, he said:  “General, the bravest man should have the place of honor.  Take mine.”

Mejia being very much cast down by the sad spectacle presented by his poor, distracted wife, Maximilian again pressed his hands, saying:  “God will not abandon our suffering survivors.  For those who die unjustly, things will be set right in another world.”

The drums began to beat.  The end was near.  Maximilian stepped forward, mounted on a stone, and addressed the spectators.

“Mexicans! men of my rank and of my race, who feel as I feel, must either be the benefactors of the people over whom they reign, or martyrs.  It was no rash ambition of my own that called me hither; you, you yourselves, invited me to accept your throne.  Before dying, let me tell you that with all the powers I possess I sought your good.  Mexicans! may my blood be the last blood that you shed; may Mexico, the unhappy country of my adoption, be happy when I am gone!”