Two salons, one looking to the front of the house, and the other to the back, communicated with each other by folding-doors, which were now wide open.  Santerre, the Marquis, Denot, Agatha, and the other republican officer, were in the back room; the unfortunate wretches doomed to die were collected on the gravel before the windows of the front room; the carabineers who were to fire on them stood in a double file on the broad area before the front door, and above the steps.  Santerre, on being addressed by the sergeant, stalked into the front room to give the order; his altered face plainly shewed the strong passion which was at work within his heart.  As he passed from one room to the other, he threw his cap upon the ground, and trampled on it; then clenched his fist, and bit his lip till the blood ran.  The fatal word “Fire” was on his tongue; but, without intending it, he looked through the window, and his eyes fell on the wretched creatures who were expecting death, and he was unable to give the command.  He sank back upon a chair, and hiding his face in both his hands, he said to the sergeant, in a low voice: 

“They must get some one else for this work, I am not the man I thought I was.”  He then rose and said, in a voice he vainly attempted should appear calm and dignified, “Sergeant, keep the prisoners in custody this night:  I have changed my mind.  Be ready to march at four tomorrow morning.  We will have a bonfire to light us on our journey:  see that there are plenty of faggots ready before you let the men sleep.”

The poor women were unable to raise themselves and walk away, when they were made to understand that they were not to die that night.  Some prayed, others screamed almost louder than before:  one or two of them fainted, and continued fainting the greater part of the night:  they were all of them taken into the house, and kept together in the kitchen surrounded by a guard.

“Citizen General!” said Denot to Santerre, stepping up to him after this scene was over; “I have performed my part of my engagement I believe.”

“Well, man, supposing you have; what do you want?  Are you going to grumble because I have not slaughtered the wretches you have betrayed to me?”

“Not at all, General; you know your own duty, doubtless.  I am going to return to Saumur, to which place I desire an escort for myself and this young lady.”

“By heaven I pity her!” said Santerre.  “I don’t know what has come to me tonight, that I should trouble myself with the cares of a swarm of aristocrats.”  And then he said, addressing Agatha, “Are you ready and willing, young woman, for a midnight ride with this hot young lover, who seems so fond of you?”

“She must be ready, General Santerre,” said Denot, taking hold of Agatha’s hand:  “it is now my turn to command her:  she must be ready, whether she be willing or no.”

“You will not force me to leave my father?” said Agatha, appealing to Santerre.  “You will not deliver a poor unprotected girl into the hands of such a maniac as that.”