and can make large allowances for the headlong impetuosities
which too often plunge a young man into crime. You may safely trust
one," he continued, placing his hand upon his heart, "in whose bosom
the confessions of many hapless fugitives repose, and will repose, so
long as life beats in my pulses. I betray no man who confides in me,
were he stained even with _blood_."

Pausing a little, he fixed a keenly searching look upon the shrinking
youth, and then whispered in his ear--"Young man! you have a _murder_
on your conscience!"

For a moment the apprehensions of Florian yielded to a lofty sense of
indignation at this groundless charge. "It is false, old man!" he
exclaimed with energy. "I swear by the just God who searches all hearts,
that I am not conscious of _any_ crime."

"I shall rejoice to learn that I am mistaken," replied the old man, with
evident gratification, as again he fixed his searching orbs upon the
indignant Florian. "If you are innocent, it will be all the better for
both of us; but," he continued, after a hasty look around him, "the
danger I alluded to still hangs over your head. I trust, however, that
with God's help I shall be able to shield you from it."

Florian, too much alarmed to reply, looked at him doubtingly. "I will
deal candidly with you," resumed the old man, after a pause of
reflection. "When you rode by my house this evening"----

"Who and what are you?" exclaimed Florian, in new astonishment.

"Have a little patience, young man!" replied the stranger, while his
iron features relaxed into a good-natured smile. "Do you recollect the
tall archway under an old house where a toll of half a sous was demanded
from you? That house is mine; and I was sitting by the window as you
threw an alms into the box for the condemned criminals. Had you then
looked upward, you would have seen a naked sword and a bright axe
suspended over your head."

At these words Florian shuddered, and involuntarily retreated some paces
from his companion. "I see by your flinching," sternly resumed the old
man, "that you guess who is before you. You are right, young man! I _am_
the town executioner, but an honest man withal, and well inclined to
render you essential service. Now, mark me! When you stopped beneath the
broad blade, it quivered, and jarred against the axe. Whoever is thus
greeted by the headsman's sword is inevitably doomed to come in contact
with it. I heard the boding jar, which every executioner i