The Frenchman and his lover stood in the wide, open field like they had many times before. There were so many thoughts going through his mind that he couldn't think straight. He was wondering what his lover was thinking about as they stood there in silence, just enjoying each other's company in the few moments they had left.
Eventually, one of them speaks.
"Francis," she begins.
"Oui, Aimer?" the Frenchman replies.
"Do, do you ever think about the past? Do you ever wish you could go back and change that faithful day when we met?"
The Frenchman could sense a slight waver in her voice.
"Pas, I wouldn't change that day for anything," he answers as lovingly as one could.
"But,' she protests, 'but, if that day never happened, then this wouldn't be happening. We wouldn't have to go through this- You wouldn't have to go through this."
To this he replies with, "Oui, you are correct as always, Aimer, but I also wouldn't have had the pleasure of knowing you."
At that sentence they both fall silent again. Suddenly, the wind begins to whimsically dance with their hair, as if allowing them to have their last dance together.
"Francis,' she softly calls his name, 'penny for your thoughts?"
Playfully, he replies with, "Why do you need to pay for my thoughts when you already own my heart?"
"You always have the perfect comebacks ready, don't you?" his lover retorts.
At that moment, they hear marching in the distance.
"Looks like it's time," she whispers, not wanting to leave, but knowing she has no choice.
"Are you ready?" he asks, concerned.
"Not being ready for the inevitable does no one any good," is all she says as she slowly begins to walk towards her pre-sentenced death.
Lowering his head to shade his crying face from peering eyes, he whispers,
"Au revoir, Jeanne d'Arc. Je t'aime."