She realized he had come to blindfold her. No, she said, shaking her head, I want to watch.

But that was not the real reason why she refused to be blindfolded. She was not one of those heroic types who are determined to stare down the firing squad. She simply wanted to postpone death. Once her eyes were covered, she would be in death's antechamber, from which there was no return.

One of the assistants went up to Tereza; he was holding a dark-blue ribbon.

The man did not force her; he merely took her arm. But as they walked across the open lawn, Tereza was unable to choose a tree. No one forced her to hurry, but she knew that in the end she would not escape. Seeing a flowering chestnut ahead of her, she walked up and stopped in front of it. She leaned her back against its trunk and looked up. She saw the leaves resplendent in the sun; she heard the sounds of the city, faint and sweet, like thousands of distant violins.

Tereza felt her courage slipping away. Her weakness drove her to despair, but she could do nothing to counteract it. But it wasn't my choice, she said.

The man raised his rifle.

He immediately lowered the barrel of his rifle and said in a gentle voice, If it wasn't your choice, we can't do it. We haven't the right.

He said it kindly, as if apologizing to Tereza for not being able to shoot her if it was not her choice. His kindness tore at her heartstrings, and she turned her face to the bark of the tree and burst into tears.