Today is Sunday.
At the thought of being eaten by rats, Despereaux couldn't be brave any more. He was to be faint, but his mother, who had an excellent sense of dramatic timing, beat him to it; she executed a beautiful, flawless swoon, landing right at Despereaux's feet. The two hoods and Despereaux stepped over his mother and continued to the dungeon. Despereaux was led away. At the last moment, the mother came out of her faint and shouted only one word to Despereaux. The word was adieu, which means farewell in French. It is not the word that you would like to hear from your mother when you are being led to the dungeon. The word you would like to hear are "Take me instead. I will go to dungeon in my son's place." There is no comfort in the word "farewell," even in French. "Farewell" is a word that, in any language, is full of sorrow. It is a word that promises absolutely nothing.
