the count, extending his
clinched hands towards the crowd, "how well do I recognize you there,
and that at all times you are worthy of yourselves!" Meanwhile Andrea
and the two executioners were struggling on the ground, and he kept
exclaiming, "He ought to die!--he shall die!--I will not die alone!"

"Look, look," cried the count, seizing the young men's hands--"look, for
on my soul it is curious. Here is a man who had resigned himself to his
fate, who was going to the scaffold to die--like a coward, it is true,
but he was about to die without resistance. Do you know what gave him
strength?--do you know what consoled him? It was, that another partook
of his punishment--that another partook of his anguish--that another
was to die before him. Lead two sheep to the butcher's, two oxen to the
slaughterhouse, and make one of them understand that his companion will
not die; the sheep will bleat for pleasure, the ox will bellow with joy.
But man--man, whom God created in his own image--man, upon whom God has
laid his first, his sole commandment, to love his neighbor--man, to whom
God has given a voice to express his thoughts--what is his first cry
when he hears his fellow-man is saved? A blasphemy. Honor to man, this
masterpiece of nature, this king of the creation!" And the count burst
into a laugh; a terrible laugh, that showed he must have suffered
horribly to be able thus to laugh. However, the struggle still
continued, and it was dreadful to witness. The people all took part
against Andrea, and twenty thousand voices cried, "Put him to death! put
him to death!" Franz sprang back, but the count seized his arm, and held
him before the window. "What are you doing?" said he. "Do you pity him?
If you heard the cry of 'Mad dog!' you would take your gun--you would
unhesitatingly shoot the poor beast, who, after all, was only guilty of
having been bitten by another dog. And yet you pity a man who, without
being bitten by one of his race, has yet murdered his benefactor; and
who, now unable to kill any one, because his hands are bound, wishes to
see his companion in captivity perish. No, no--look, look!"

The command was needless. Franz was fascinated by the horrible
spectacle. The two assistants had borne Andrea to the scaffold, and
there, in spite of his struggles, his bites, and his cries, had forced
him to his knees. During this time the executioner had raised his mace,
and signed to them to get out of the way; the criminal