noon
`` Woman , woman ! '' he sighed , as he set down his napkin and rose in his turn . His humour was one of pitying patience for a girl that had not the wit to see that to ask him -- the most noble d'Ombreval -- to die that La Boulaye might live was very much like asking him to sacrifice his life to save a dog 's . It wanted but a few minutes to noon as the condemned of the day were being brought out of the Conciergerie to take their places in the waiting tumbrils . Fourteen they numbered , and there was a woman amongst them as composed as any of the men . She descended the prison steps in nonchalant conversation with a witty young man of some thirty years of age , who had been one of the ornaments of the prerevolutionary salons . Had the pair been on the point of mounting a wedding coach they could not have shown themselves in better spirits .