ted Coconnas; "and if you write everything I am
going to tell you you infamous hangmen, you will be kept busy. Write!
write!"

"Have you anything you wish to confess?" asked the judge in his calm
voice.

"Nothing; not a word! Go to the devil!"

"You had better reflect, monsieur. Come, executioner, adjust the boot."

At these words the man, who until then had stood motionless, the ropes
in his hand, stepped forward from the pillar and slowly approached
Coconnas, who turned and made a grimace at him.

It was Maitre Caboche, the executioner of the provostship of Paris.

A look of sad surprise showed itself on the face of Coconnas, who,
instead of crying out and growing agitated, lay without moving, unable
to take his eyes from the face of the forgotten friend who appeared at
that moment.

Without moving a muscle of his face, without showing that he had ever
seen Coconnas anywhere except on the rack, Caboche placed two planks
between the limbs of the victim, two others outside of his limbs, and
bound them securely together by means of the rope he held in his hand.

This was the arrangement called the "boot."

For ordinary torture six wedges were inserted between the two planks,
which, on being forced apart, crushed the flesh.

For severe torture ten wedges were inserted, and then the planks not
only broke the flesh but the bones.

The preliminaries over, Maitre Caboche slipped the end of the wedge
between the two planks, then, mallet in hand, bent on one knee and
looked at the judge.

"Do you wish to speak?" said the latter.

"No," resolutely answered Coconnas, although he felt the perspiration
rise to his brow and his hair begin to stand on end.

"Proceed, then," said the judge. "Insert the first wedge."

Caboche raised his arm, with its heavy mallet, and struck the wedge a
tremendous blow, which gave forth a dull sound. The rack shook.

Coconnas did not utter a single word at the first wedge, which usually
caused the most resolute to groan. Moreover, the only expression on his
face was that of indescribable astonishment. He watched Caboche in
amazement, who, with arm raised, half turned towards the judge, stood
ready to repeat the blow.

"What was your idea in hiding in the forest?" asked the judge.

"To sit down in the shade," replied Coconnas.

"Proceed," said the judge.

Caboche gave a second blow which resounded like the first.

Coconnas did not move a muscle; he continued to watch the execut