hanging day, and I was working 20 hours per day, and sleeping the other four. She asked me once:
“Mattie, which would you be doing, if you could only do one?”
I was distracted, and didn’t quite understand. She explained – that is to say, repeated, more slowly – that she wanted to know which, of Mme. Graveau’s persecution or the poor English to swing at Tyburn, I would devote my efforts to, if I had to choose only one.
“Mme. Graveau,” I said, almost before she was done “explaining.” She was silent. I felt compelled to explain myself – for Susan always had that effect on me.
“Susan, this is England. Free men and women have the right to speak freely, harm they no-one. It’s fundamental. It’s the bedrock under England. Without it, there is no England.” I suppose I babbled. My wits were strained taut.
Susan was not in a mood generous enough to slacken her line. “They took Mme. Graveau away so that we would renounce her cause! Matthew – you’re letting them win! Mme. Graveau would lash you black and blue!”
I retorted that I had seen and spoken with Mme. Graveau quite often of late, and that in reality – a state with which Susan-land had evidently cut off all diplomatic ties – Mme. Graveau encouraged me heartily.
“She’s the one in prison!” she shrieked. “Of course Mme. Graveau is grateful for your work on her behalf. If she were here, and not there, she would choose us every day of the month!”