eight o'clock in the morning
Some of her time of waiting she spent in writing letters to her friends , in which tranquilly and sanely she dwelt upon what she had done , expounding fully the motives that had impelled her , dwelling upon the details of the execution , and of all that had followed . Among the letters written by her during those `` days of the preparation of peace `` -- as she calls that period , dating in such terms a long epistle to Barbaroux -- was one to the Committee of Public Safety , in which she begs that a miniature-painter may be sent to her to paint her portrait , so that she may leave this token of remembrance to her friends . It is only in this , as the end approaches , that we see in her conduct any thought for her own self , any suggestion that she is anything more than a instrument in the hands of Fate . On the 15th , at eight o'clock in the morning , her trial began before the Revolutionary Tribunal . A murmur ran through the hall as she appeared in her gown of grey-striped dimity , composed and calm -- always calm . The trial opened with the examination of witnesses ; into that of the cutler , who had sold her the knife , she broke impatiently . `` These details are a waste of time .