The man in leather now shoved his melancholy comrade on in front of him,
and the headsman's door closed behind them.

It was a kitchen into which they had entered, in no way different from
the hearth and home of ordinary men. The plates and dishes shone with
cleanliness, everything was in apple-pie order, the fire flickered
merrily beneath the chimney, and yet--fancy was continually finding
something in every object reminiscent of blood-curdling circumstances.
That axe, for instance, stuck in a block in front of the fireplace? Two
years ago the executioner had beheaded a parricide--perchance 'twas on
that very block!

That rope, again, attached to that bucket, that curved piece of iron
glowing red in the fire, that heavy chain dangling down from the
chimney--who knows of what accursed horrible scenes they may not have
been the witnesses at some time or other? Yet, perhaps, there may be
nothing sinister at all about them; perhaps they are employed for quite
simple, honest, culinary purposes. Still, this is the headsman's house,
remember!

Here and there on the walls black spots are visible. What are they?
Blood, perhaps. One's eye cannot tear itself away from them; again and
again it goes back to them, and the mind cannot reconcile itself to the
thought: perchance this may be the blood of some beast, the blood of
some common fattened beast which man must kill that he may eat and
live--for is not this the dwelling of the headsman?

A woman is roasting and frying over the hearth, a tall, muscularly built
virago, to whose sinewy arms, dome-like breast, red shining cheeks, and
burning eyes, the flickering flames gave a savage, uncanny look; her
fine black locks are wound up in a large knot at the back of her head,
her large eyebrows have grown together, and the upper surface of her
red, swollen lips are amber-coloured with masculine down.

"Sit down!" she cries to the new arrivals with a rough growling voice.
"You are hungry, eh? Well, soon you shall have something to eat. There's
the table"--and she went on cooking and piling up the fire; as it roared
up the chimney it gave her red face an infernal expression. This was the
headsman's wife.

The melancholy youth sat down abstractedly at the table, the other
strode up to the hearth and began whispering to the woman, whilst from
time to time they cast glances at the stranger-guest.

The man's whispers were inaudible, but it was possible to catch every
word the woman s