Page 92 - the-idiot

‘Oh, why not?’ the prince insisted, with some warmth.
‘When I was in Basle I saw a picture very much in that
style—I should like to tell you about it; I will some time or
other; it struck me very forcibly.’
‘Oh, you shall tell us about the Basle picture another time;
now we must have all about the execution,’ said Adelaida.
‘Tell us about that face as; it appeared to your imagina-
tion-how should it be drawn?—just the face alone, do you
mean?’
‘It was just a minute before the execution,’ began the
prince, readily, carried away by the recollection and evi-
dently forgetting everything else in a moment; ‘just at the
instant when he stepped off the ladder on to the scaffold.
He happened to look in my direction: I saw his eyes and
understood all, at once—but how am I to describe it? I do
so wish you or somebody else could draw it, you, if possible.
I thought at the time what a picture it would make. You
must imagine all that went before, of course, all—all. He
had lived in the prison for some time and had not expect-
ed that the execution would take place for at least a week
yet—he had counted on all the formalities and so on taking
time; but it so happened that his papers had been got ready
quickly. At five o’clock in the morning he was asleep—it
was October, and at five in the morning it was cold and dark.
The governor of the prison comes in on tip-toe and touches
the sleeping man’s shoulder gently. He starts up. ‘What is
it?’ he says. ‘The execution is fixed for ten o’clock.’ He was
only just awake, and would not believe at first, but began to
argue that his papers would not be out for a week, and so on.

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