ees, his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage, had
come into their dull and dreary lives like a wandering sunbeam; and that
he should die, and at their hands, was to them as the darkening of the
clear lamps of heaven.

Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his grave was waiting for
him. It had been dug in the night by unwilling hands; and tears had
fallen on the spade. As he passed he looked down, smiling, at the black
pit and the withering grass beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell
the scent of the freshly turned earth.

Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and the Gadfly looked round
with his brightest smile.

"Shall I stand here, sergeant?"

The man nodded silently; there was a lump in his throat, and he
could not have spoken to save his life. The Governor, his nephew, the
lieutenant of carabineers who was to command, a doctor and a priest
were already in the courtyard, and came forward with grave faces, half
abashed under the radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes.

"G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his reverence is up so early, too!
How do you do, captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you than our
former meeting, isn't it? I see your arm is still in a sling;
that's because I bungled my work. These good fellows will do theirs
better--won't you, lads?"

He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the carabineers.

"There'll be no need of slings this time, any way. There, there, you
needn't look so doleful over it! Put your heels together and show how
straight you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work cut out
for you than you'll know how to get through, and there's nothing like
practice beforehand."

"My son," the priest interrupted, coming forward, while the others drew
back to leave them alone together; "in a few minutes you must enter into
the presence of your Maker. Have you no other use but this for these
last moments that are left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you,
how dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution, with all your sins
upon your head. When you stand before your Judge it will be too late to
repent. Will you approach His awful throne with a jest upon your lips?"

"A jest, your reverence? It is your side that needs that little homily,
I think. When our turn comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a
dozen second-hand carbines, and then you'll see how much we're in jest."

"YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! Have you sti