9 A death 
　  
　　Queen Mary stopped writing then． Yesterday afternoon，7th February 1587， we heard a horse outside our win-dow． Mary looked out． There was a man there， on the road from London． He had a letter from the Queen of England． 
　　In the evening， an Englishman， Lord Shrewsbury，came to see Mary，‘I am sorry，my lady，'he said．‘But I have a letter from my Queen． You're going to die， tomorrow．' 
　　Mary did not move．‘When？'she asked quietly． 
　　‘At half past eight in the morning，'he said．‘I am very sorry， my lady．'He went away． 
　　We did not sleep much that night．We talked and prayed to God， and she gave me her letter to her son， James．‘Give it to him， Bess， please，'she said．‘And tell him how I died．'  
　　‘Yes， my lady，'I said． And so now I am going to tell you．King James．This is how your mother died． 
　　At six o'clock she got up，prayed， and dressed． She put on a red petticoat first， then a black dress， and a white veil over the dress． The veil came from her head to her feet； she could see out through it， but we could not see her face． She looked like a woman on her wedding day． 
　　When the Englishmen came we went downstairs with her．Her little dog walked beside her， under the veil， but the Eng－lishmen didn't see that． Six of us went into a big room with her． A hundred people stood and watched． 
　　A Protestant churchman came to talk to her，‘My lady，'he said．‘Pray with me—'  
　　‘No，'she said．‘Thank you， but no． I was born a Catholic and I'm going to die a Catholic． I think God understands that．'she prayed for five minutes， and then stood up． The executioner came towards her． He was a big， strong man with an axe， and something black over his face． 
　　‘I am sorry， my lady，'he said．‘I don't hate you， but this is my work． Please forgive me．'  
　　‘Of course I forgive you，'mary said．‘I am old， and tired，and you're going to open my prison doors for me． I am going to see God．Do your work well．' 
　　Then she looked at me and her friends．‘Don't cry for me，ladies，'she said．‘Please， don't cry now．' 
　　She could not walk to the block， so the executioner helped her． He took off her white veil， and then he took off her black dress， and put it on the floor． She stood there， in her red pet-ticoat，with a smile on her face． Then the executioner put something over her eyes． Very slowly， Mary put her head on the block． 
　　‘The Lord my God is my one true friend，'she said．‘I give my life，oh God，into your hands．' 
　　Then the executioner lifted his axe， once… twice… oh God！three times…and her head—her poor，poor head，fell on the floor． 
　　It was very quiet in the room after that． It is a little thing，a head—a very little thing． But there was so much blood—blood on her red petticoat， blood on her black dress and her white veil， blood on the executioner's shoes， blood all over the floor． Blood， blood everywhere． 
　　We all looked， and said nothing． The executioner put down his axe and stood quietly． And then Mary's little dog came out from under her bloody dress and veil， and walked slowly， un-happily， through the blood towards her head． 
　　My lord，the story of your poor mother's life finishes here．We， her friends， cry for her， but that is how your mother died． She died like a Queen． A good lady and a famous Queen． 
Mary， Queen of Scots． 
9 死亡 
　  
　　然后，玛丽女王停止了写信。昨天下午，即1587年的2月7日，我们听到窗外传来了马蹄声。玛丽向窗外望去，从伦敦方向来了一个男人，他捎来了英格兰女王的一封信。 
　　晚上，一位英格兰人，休斯贝林勋爵来看玛丽。“我很抱歉，我的夫人，”他说。“可是我有一封英格兰女王写来的信。你明天将被处死。” 
　　玛丽一动也没动。“什么时候？”她平静地问道。 
　　“早上8点半钟。”他说。“我十分抱歉，我的夫人。”他说完就离开了。 
　　那晚我们没睡多少。我们谈着话并且向上帝祈祷，她把给她儿子詹姆斯的信交给我。“请把信交给他，贝斯。”她说。“并且告诉他我是怎么死的。” 
　　“好的，夫人，”我说道。因此，现在就由我来告诉你，詹姆斯国王，你母亲是怎么死的吧。 
　　早上6点钟，她起床了，祈祷完毕，穿好衣服。她先穿上一件红色的衬裙，然后穿上一件黑色的连衣裙，再在裙子外面套上一件白色的薄纱裙。纱裙一直从脸罩到脚；透过它，她能看得见外面，但我们不能看到她的脸。她看起来像个婚礼上的新娘。 
　　那英格兰人来的时候，我们就跟着她下了楼。她的小狗跟在她身边，跑在纱裙下面，但那英格兰人没有看到它。我们六个人跟她走进了一间大房间。有100人站在那里观望。 
　　一个新教教士走过来和她说话。“我的夫人，”他说道。“跟我一起祈祷——” 
　　“不，”她说。“谢谢你，但我不。我生为天主教教徒，死也为天主教教徒。我想上帝会明白的。”她祈祷了5分钟，然后站了起来。那刽子手向她走过来。他又大又壮，手里拿着斧子，一个黑乎乎的东西盖着他的脸。 
　　“我很抱歉，我的夫人，”他说。“我不想伤害你，但这是我的工作。请原谅我。” 
　　“当然我会原谅你。”玛丽说。“我老了，也感到累了，你将为我打开监狱的大门。我将去见上帝了。好好干。” 
　　随后她看着我和她的朋友们。“不要为我而哭，夫人们，”她说。“现在请别哭了。” 
　　她不能走到木台那儿，于是那刽子手拉她过去。他脱下她白色的纱裙，然后脱下她黑色的连衣裙，放到地板上去。她站在那里，穿着红色的衬裙，脸上带着微笑。接着，那刽子手用东西遮住了她的眼睛。慢慢地，慢慢地，玛丽将头放在了木台上。 
　　“我的主上帝是我的一个真正的朋友，”她说。“噢，上帝，我把我的生命放进你的手中。” 
　　然后那刽子手举起了他的斧子。一次……两次……噢，上帝！三次……她的头——她的可怜的，可怜的头颅，掉在了地板上。 
　　在那之后房间是一片寂静。它只是个小东西，一只头颅——一个非常小的东西。但却有这么多血——鲜血渗到她红色的衬裙上，渗到她黑色的连衣裙和她那白色的纱裙上，鲜血流到了刽子手的鞋上，地板上到处是血，血，到处是血。 
　　我们怔怔地看着，一句话也说不出来。刽子手放下了斧子，一言不发地站着。那时，玛丽的小狗从她那被鲜血染红了的连衣裙和纱裙下面钻了出来，淌过鲜血很伤心地，慢慢地走向她的头颅。 
　　我的国王，有关你可怜的母亲的生平就说到这里了。我们，做为她的朋友，为她哭泣，但这就是你母亲怎么死的。她死得像个女王。一位好夫人，一位驰名的女王。 
　　玛丽，苏格兰女王。 
　　　    


 