on the contrary, very reluctantly, that the monk
attended the wounded man who had been recommended to him in so strange a
manner. Perhaps he would have sought to escape by flight had he seen
any possibility of doing so. He was restrained by the threats of the
two gentlemen and by the presence of their attendants, who doubtless
had received their instructions. And besides, he considered it most
expedient, without exhibiting too much ill-will, to follow to the end
his role as confessor.

The monk entered the chamber and approached the bed of the wounded man.
The executioner searched his face with the quick glance peculiar to
those who are about to die and have no time to lose. He made a movement
of surprise and said:

"Father, you are very young."

"Men who bear my robe have no age," replied the monk, dryly.

"Alas, speak to me more gently, father; in my last moments I need a
friend."

"Do you suffer much?" asked the monk.

"Yes, but in my soul much more than in my body."

"We will save your soul," said the young man; "but are you really the
executioner of Bethune, as these people say?"

"That is to say," eagerly replied the wounded man, who doubtless feared
that the name of executioner would take from him the last help that he
could claim--"that is to say, I was, but am no longer; it is fifteen
years since I gave up the office. I still assist at executions, but no
longer strike the blow myself--no, indeed."

"You have, then, a repugnance to your profession?"

"So long as I struck in the name of the law and of justice my profession
allowed me to sleep quietly, sheltered as I was by justice and law;
but since that terrible night when I became an instrument of private
vengeance and when with personal hatred I raised the sword over one of
God's creatures--since that day----"

The executioner paused and shook his head with an expression of despair.

"Tell me about it," said the monk, who, sitting on the foot of the bed,
began to be interested in a story so strangely introduced.

"Ah!" cried the dying man, with all the effusiveness of a grief declared
after long suppression, "ah! I have sought to stifle remorse by twenty
years of good deeds; I have assuaged the natural ferocity of those who
shed blood; on every occasion I have exposed my life to save those who
were in danger, and I have preserved lives in exchange for that I took
away. That is not all; the money gained in the exercise of my profession
I have d