Margaret snatched the child in her arms and kissed him.
She knocked in vain for ten minutes. At last she heard his voice within:
"Go away from that door!"
"I'm from Piedmont, sir," cried Margaret, "with an important message from the Commandant for you."
"Yes; I saw you come. I will not see you. I know everything, and I will hear no appeal."
"But you can not know of the exchange of men"—pleaded the girl.
"I tell you I know all about it. I will not interfere"
"But you could not be so cruel"
"The majesty of the law must be vindicated. The judge who consents to the execution of a murderer is not cruel. He is showing mercy to Society. Go, now; I will not hear you."
In vain Margaret knocked, begged, pleaded, and sobbed.
At last, in a fit of desperation, as she saw the sun sinking lower and the precious minutes flying, she hurled her magnificent figure against the door and smashed the cheap lock which held it.
The old man sat at the other side of the room, looking out of the window, with his massive jaws locked in rage. The girl staggered to his side, knelt by his chair, placed her trembling hand on his arm, and begged:
"For the love of Jesus, have mercy! Come with me quickly!"
With a growl of anger, he said:
"No!"
