The Carmelites were coming to Revolution Square, singing, just as Sister Marie had expected. Their psalms could be heard from afar and penetrated the screams of the populace with strange clarity. Or did the tumult subside as the victims came into sight? I could clearly distinguish the last words of the ‘Salve Regina’—sung, you know, at the deathbed of a nun—and soon afterward the first line of the ‘Veni Creator.’ There was something light and lovely in their singing, something tender and yet strong and serene. Never would I have though that such song could flow from the lips of those condemned to death.
The Song at the Scaffold, Gertrud von Le Fort