"Oh," she wailed in one long, agonised moan, sobbing and writhing in the intensity of her torture, "how can I bear this?"
"Come," said the Admiral, but she was oblivious to all except the storm of her distress.
"Come," repeated the Admiral, but she heard not.
"Come," repeated he once more impatiently; but her tear-filled eyes were fixed upon Germain. The horror of his falsity was strong within her, but his chivalry and tenderness throughout their long association could not be so quickly forgotten, nor the bonds of her affection so instantly blotted out. The mystery of his long sorrow dawned upon her, and his utter self-accusation appealed to her pity. Their differences of rank became as nothing.
"Come away," said the Admiral again, with soft-uttered persuasiveness.
Cyrène's nature, in those moments, had felt, thought, concluded with lightning swiftness. Her soul swept through a great arc of intuition.
"No, no, there is something I do not understand!" she cried. "My Germain, God has made you for me. You loved me and were led astray, but you are honourable and faithful in the sight of heaven, my eternal love. Let us kiss each other. Let us press each other to our breasts and die; in a few hours we shall be together for ever."
Before the Admiral could prevent it they were clasped in a passionate, feverish, last embrace.
"Very well," the Admiral sneered frigidly. "I keep my promises. Apothecary's apprentice, to-day you die. As for you, citizeness, I give you your freedom."
"I reject it--I will die with him," she answered.
"Not at all," he returned. "I promised him your liberty. I keep my promises."
"Wretch! you would separate the betrothed from the dying?"
"Go, beloved," said Germain, releasing her. "It is just that I should die, but not you. I shall love you in the grave. Remember not my errors."
"No, I will never leave you, Germain. Oh, Germain, I will die with you."
"Take the woman off!" growled the Admiral to the turnkeys. They obeyed him instantly.
Germain rushed after them to the door of the cell, but it was closed upon him, and he caught only a shadow through the grating and heard her last cry of grief.
When Cyrène was pushed out of the outer portal of the prison she was met by her good friend the patriot Hugues la Tour.