istributed to the poor; I have been assiduous in attending
church and those who formerly fled from me have become accustomed to
seeing me. All have forgiven me, some have even loved me; but I think
that God has not pardoned me, for the memory of that execution pursues
me constantly and every night I see that woman's ghost rising before
me."

"A woman! You have assassinated a woman, then?" cried the monk.

"You also!" exclaimed the executioner, "you use that word which sounds
ever in my ears--'assassinated!' I have assassinated, then, and not
executed! I am an assassin, then, and not an officer of justice!" and he
closed his eyes with a groan.

The monk doubtless feared that he would die without saying more, for he
exclaimed eagerly:

"Go on, I know nothing, as yet; when you have finished your story, God
and I will judge."

"Oh, father," continued the executioner, without opening his eyes, as
if he feared on opening them to see some frightful object, "it is
especially when night comes on and when I have to cross a river, that
this terror which I have been unable to conquer comes upon me; it then
seems as if my hand grew heavy, as if the cutlass was still in its
grasp, as if the water had the color of blood, and all the voices of
nature--the whispering of the trees, the murmur of the wind, the lapping
of the wave--united in a voice tearful, despairing, terrible, crying to
me, 'Place for the justice of God!'"

"Delirium!" murmured the monk, shaking his head.

The executioner opened his eyes, turned toward the young man and grasped
his arm.

"'Delirium,'" he repeated; "'delirium,' do you say? Oh, no! I remember
too well. It was evening; I had thrown the body into the river and
those words which my remorse repeats to me are those which I in my pride
pronounced. After being the instrument of human justice I aspired to be
that of the justice of God."

"But let me see, how was it done? Speak," said the monk.

"It was at night. A man came to me and showed me an order and I followed
him. Four other noblemen awaited me. They led me away masked. I reserved
the right of refusing if the office they required of me should seem
unjust. We traveled five or six leagues, serious, silent, and almost
without speaking. At length, through the window of a little hut, they
showed me a woman sitting, leaning on a table, and said, 'there is the
person to be executed.'"

"Horrible!" said the monk. "And you obeyed?"

"Father, that wo