entrance.

Presently the oldest of the black-gowned judges--he who seemed to fulfil
the functions of president of the tribunal--rose and struck thrice with
his palm upon the open folio that lay before him.

A profound hush fell instantly upon the hall. Then, through the doorway
facing that which Charles had just opened, came a band of young men of
prepossessing appearance, with their arms bound behind their backs. They
bore themselves well, their heads raised high, their mien unabashed.
Behind them stalked a robust figure, clad in a brown leather jerkin,
holding the ends of the ropes which confined their hands.

The foremost of the youths, who seemed to be their leader, halted before
the funereal block, and surveyed it with superb disdain. A convulsive
shudder swept over the crowned cadaver at sight of the youth, and from the
gaping wound the crimson blood welled afresh.

The prisoner knelt beside the block, and bent his head above it; the ax
flashed aloft, and descended with a resounding crash. A sanguine river
gushed from the headless trunk, losing itself in that other bloody stream;
the head bounded forward, rolling across the reddened floor to the living
monarch's feet, and drenched them with its uncontrolled flow.

Up to that moment surprise had held Charles mute, but this horrible
spectacle restored his power of speech. Striding forward to the dais, he
boldly addressed the aged administrator, repeating the prescribed formula:

"If thou art of God, speak; if thou be of that Other, leave us in peace."

In solemn tones, slowly, the fantom spoke:

"Charles! King! Not in thy reign shall his blood flow [here the voice grew
less distinct] but in the reign of thy fifth successor. Wo, wo, wo to the
blood of Wasa!"

As he ceased speaking the spectral forms who had participated in this
astounding vision faded. In a moment they were less than painted shadows;
soon they were gone; the fantastic flaming torches flickered and died, and
only the light from the tapers which his attendants carried remained to
illuminate the ancient mural tapestries, still faintly agitated by some
ghostly breeze.

For a space there lingered in the air a murmur, melodious withal, which
one of the four witnesses has compared to the rustling of the wind among
the leaves, and another to the breaking of harp-strings when the harp is
being tuned. But all were agreed as to the duration of the vision.

The black draperies, the severed head, the