time to get through," she said. "I am making a last use of the
talent for drawing and catching a likeness, which has been one
of my gifts since I was a girl. You look as if you didn't approve
of such employment as this for a woman who is going to be hanged.
Well, sir, I have no doubt you are right." She paused, and tore
up the portrait. "If I have misbehaved myself," she resumed,
"I make amends. To find you in an indulgent frame of mind is of
importance to me just now. I have a favor to ask of you. May
the warder leave the cell for a few minutes?"

Giving the woman permission to withdraw for a while, I waited
with some anxiety to hear what the Prisoner wanted of me.

"I have something to say to you," she proceeded, "on the subject
of executions. The face of a person who is going to be hanged
is hidden, as I have been told, by a white cap drawn over it.
Is that true?"

How another man might have felt, in my place, I cannot, of
course, say. To my mind, such a question--on _her_ lips--was
too shocking to be answered in words. I bowed.

"And the body is buried," she went on, "in the prison?"

I could remain silent no longer. "Is there no human feeling left
in you?" I burst out. "What do these horrid questions mean?"

"Don't be angry with me, sir; you shall hear directly. I want
to know first if I am to be buried in the prison?"