death sentence, upon which Polavieja the next day placed his Cumplase,
fixing the morning of December thirtieth for the execution.

So Rizal's fate was sealed. The witnesses against him, in so far
as there was any substantial testimony at all, had been his own
countrymen, coerced or cajoled into making statements which they have
since repudiated as false, and which in some cases were extorted from
them by threats and even torture. But he betrayed very little emotion,
even maintaining what must have been an assumed cheerfulness. Only one
reproach is recorded: that he had been made a dupe of, that he had
been deceived by every one, even the bankeros and cocheros. His old
Jesuit instructors remained with him in the capilla, or death-cell,[13]
and largely through the influence of an image of the Sacred Heart,
which he had carved as a schoolboy, it is claimed that a reconciliation
with the Church was effected. There has been considerable pragmatical
discussion as to what form of retraction from him was necessary,
since he had been, after studying in Europe, a frank freethinker, but
such futile polemics may safely be left to the learned doctors. That
he was reconciled with the Church would seem to be evidenced by
the fact that just before the execution he gave legal status as
his wife to the woman, a rather remarkable Eurasian adventuress,
who had lived with him in Dapitan, and the religious ceremony was
the only one then recognized in the islands.[14] The greater part of
his last night on earth was spent in composing a chain of verse; no
very majestic flight of poesy, but a pathetic monody throbbing with
patient resignation and inextinguishable hope, one of the sweetest,
saddest swan-songs ever sung.

Thus he was left at the last, entirely alone. As soon as his doom
became certain the Patriots had all scurried to cover, one gentle