It appears that hope sustained her through these last days—hope and a poignant... perverse? ... belief in French justice. Correspondence helped keep her busy: petitions for a pardon, pleas for Dutch intervention. She also spent a good deal of time with the Scriptures, and chatting with the attendant Sisters of Mercy. Although her health remained stable, she did continue to suffer from insomnia and spells of nausea. Her spirits, though, did not seem to decline, and several witnesses would later recall that she actually laughed on occasion. In response to Sister Leonide's curiosity about the kind of dances she used to perform, Zelle even managed a few innocent steps . . . which over the years, in various accounts, became nude ballet.

After three weeks of rejected appeals and ignored petitions, they entered her cell on a Monday morning. She was sleeping. Bizard had given her a double dose of chloral, and Sister Leonide had to shake her awake. She rose to her elbows, and her eyes moved slowly past the kneeling sister to the faces of the four convening officers: Bouchardon, Albert Somprou, Dr. Soquet, and an Emile Massard of the Parisian Military Authority. It was at this point that she was heard to whisper, "But it's impossible . . . impossible . . ."

They left her with Sister Leonide to dress, but for several minutes she simply remained seated on the edge of the cot. It was still quite cold, and the light was feeble. Finally the sister laid a hand on her shoulder and whispered, "I think it's time now,"

Zelle shook her head and smiled. "Don't worry, sister. I can't imagine that they'll start without me."

She was given a choice of two dresses, and first held up a simple one in white. "What do you think? Too sacrificial?"

But by now the sister was on the edge of tears and could not respond.

"Yes, much too sacrificial," and she chose the pearl-gray with a blue cloak, straw hat, and veil.

She grew silent again while dressing, grateful to the sister for the hand mirror propped against the wall. Her public expected due attention to the details: hair, makeup, jewelry. Unfortunately they still hadn't brought her mascara.

There were approximately seven minutes between the time that she finished dressing and her descent to the main floor. Bizard had returned with a colleague for an obligatory formality—an official declaration that she was not pregnant. Meanwhile a few young Republican Guards had assembled to control the crowd below. The temperature remained at thirty-five degrees Fahrenheit, with a mist all about.

From the cell she was escorted to a first floor office known as the Pont d'Avignon. It was here that she left the custody of Saint-Lazare and officially became a military concern. It was also here that three last letters were written and later passed to her attorney. There were no last embraces, and only Sister Leonide had begun to cry.