"'My love as broad as is the sea,'" echoed Werner. And suddenly he exclaimed in astonishment:
"Musya, my little Musya, how young you still are!"
Just then, close to Werner's ear, sounded the breathless and passionate voice of the Tzigane:
"Sir, sir, look at the forest. My God! What is all that? And yonder! The lanterns! My God, is that the scaffold?"
Werner looked at him. The convulsed features of the unfortunate man were frightful to see.
"We must say our farewells," said Tanya.
"Wait! They still have to read the sentence. Where is Yanson?"
Yanson lay stretched in the snow, surrounded by people. A strong smell of ammonia filled the air around him.
"Well, doctor, will you soon be through?" asked someone, impatiently.
"It's nothing. A fainting fit. Rub his ears with snow. He is better already. You can read."
The light of a dark lantern fell upon the paper and the ungloved white hands. Both paper and hands trembled. The voice also.
"Gentlemen, perhaps it is better not to read. You all know the sentence."
"Do not read!" answered Werner for all; and the light immediately went out.
The condemned refused also the services of the priest. Said the Tzigane:
"No nonsense, father; you will forgive me, they will hang me."
