Surrender to a Stranger Read Online Free PDF

would bring absolutely no one.
    “Oh, er, pardon me, I was not aware the citizeness was entertaining company,” said a frail, gravelly voice before dissolving into a hideous fit of coughing.
    Startled, Nicolas released Jacqueline and stepped away from her. Jacqueline quickly pulled together the torn remnants of her bodice and grabbed her shawl up from the floor, covering herself before she turned to face the welcome intruder.
    “Who are you and what do you want?” demanded Nicolas harshly, obviously infuriated by the interruption.
    The old man Jacqueline had noticed in the courtroom waved his gnarled hand at Nicolas as he continued to cough, a horrible, wet, choking sound that made it quite impossible for him to reply. A scrawny youth of perhaps fifteen or sixteen, who had been standing in the shadows by the door, stepped into the cell and pulled the chair that held Nicolas’s coat and jacket over for him to sit on. With great effort the old man leaned on his cane and slowly lowered himself into the chair. The boy reached into a pocket of the enormous black cape the man wore and produced a relatively clean handkerchief. The old man accepted it with one hand and proceeded to hawk into it noisily. It sounded to Jacqueline as if he might expire at any moment.
    “His name is Citizen Julien. He’s an agent of the court,” explained Gagnon apologetically from the door. “Here to see about her personal affairs.”
    “Debts to be settled, last letters to write,” managed the old man in a wheezy voice as he fought to control his coughing. “Distribution of personal effects, scraps of clothing, locks of hair. The lad here, Dénis, and I will see that they are safely delivered to loved ones, all for a modest fee. I am also able to take last statements or confessions of any counterrevolutionary activities, names, places. It is my duty to admit I do have some access to our most eminent public prosecutor, Citizen Fouquier-Tinville, and might even be able to get a final confession or denunciation to him if the information provided is worthwhile. Perhaps you have something to tell me, young lady, that might affect your sentence, hmm?” he said suggestively, with one thick white eyebrow raised in her direction.”
    Jacqueline wanted to laugh, so grateful was she for this interruption. She was aware prisoners were entitled to settle their affairs in the brief hours before their execution, but did the Tribunal really believe she would denounce others who opposed the new Republic to try to save herself?
    “I am afraid, Citizen, your timing is not ideal,” stated Nicolas in a tightly controlled voice. “The citizeness and I have a personal matter to resolve. You can come back later.” He folded his arms across his chest and waited for the old man to excuse himself from the cell.
    Citizen Julien ignored him and motioned to the youth, who handed him a thick leather case. He laid it open on the table and moved the candle closer, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and began to mumble as he rifled through them. “Saint-Simon…Rabourdin…de Crussol…Pontavice…Coutelet…La Voisier…Dufouleur…aha!” he called out triumphantly. He separated a sheet of paper from the pile and held it beneath the light of the candle. “Jacqueline Doucette, formerly Mademoiselle Jacqueline Marie Louise de Lambert, daughter of the convicted traitor Charles-Alexandre Doucette, former Duc de Lambert,” he read from the document with squinting eyes. He reached back into the case, took out a quill and a little pot of ink, and began to set them up on the table.
    Nicolas took a step toward him, clearly annoyed. “Citizen, I said you will have to come back later,” he bellowed into his ear, obviously thinking the man must be deaf.
    The old man slowly lifted one pale, spotted hand to his ear and shook his head, as if the sound was rattling around in his brain. He looked at Nicolas impatiently. “No need to shout, boy, no need to shout,” he bellowed back.