completed, and left me with that lameness which I
shall carry to the grave.

"Louise had been gone about a quarter of an
hour, when she at length came back to us. She
looked horror-struck.

"'Oh! Monsieur Pierre!' she cried, 'the
man they have been trying at the Palais de
Justice is condemned, and must die: so says the
gardener.'

"He raised his head. Never shall I forget
the horror in his eyes and his parted lips—
never. I screamed with terror, but my voice
had no power on him now; he sank back with
a groan, and fainted. Louise was beside
herself. She ran to the fountain, and came back
with a cupful of water, which she sprinkled on
his face. It revived him; but return to life
only brought with it the fiercest despair. He
dashed himself down on the stone floor, and
uttered a prayer I have never forgotten, 'My
God!' he prayed, 'let me die before that man—
let me die first.'

"'Monsieur Pierre, you must go,' cried
Louise. 'Make haste and go, or I shall be ruined.'

"But he did not go.

"'You are one of God's angels,' he said, turning
to me, 'and your prayers will be heard in
heaven. Pray that I may die before that man.'

"'No, no!' I cried, bursting into tears; 'I
cannot pray that you may die.'

"'Well, then,' he entreated, 'pray that he
may live.'

"I was willing enough to do that, and I said
so. He grew wonderfully calm, and rose, pale
as death, but composed and grave. The change
in him was so marked and sudden that I
have often thought, since then, he must have
received some inward certainty of the deliverance
that lay before him. Louise hurried him
away, let him out, and came back to me, all
anxiety to secure my silence concerning what
had passed. I promised to be mute, but I asked
to know the cause of Monsieur Pierre's distress,
and I was so pertinacious that she was obliged
to satisfy me. The man whom they were going
to execute on the very Place beneath our
windows was Monsieur Pierre's brother!

"'The last execution took place a year ago,'
said Louise, 'and then we all went to the
country for the day; but madame is ill now,
and cannot be removed. I suppose we shall
shut up the windows and stay in the garden.'

"There is a deep attraction in the horrible. I
shivered with terror, and yet I longed to see that
frightful sight. I wondered what it was like,
and when it would be; but Louise could not, or
would not, give me any information on either
head, and I was left to my imagination. Heaven
knows the images with which it became peopled.
They took so strong a hold of me, that never
since those far days have I been able to read of,
or hear of, an execution. I once attempted to
read about one, and was seized with a shivering
fit that lasted hours; another time, a gentleman
having entered on such a narrative in my
presence, I fainted. The reality is surely fearful;
but I doubt if it can equal the pictures my fancy
drew during the three days that followed the
scene in the garden. My aunt was dying, and I
was left very much alone in my gloomy chamber.
Marie never came near me, and Louise was
always going down to gossip in the kitchen. It
rained, so I could not be taken to the garden.
I lay on a couch near one of the windows, reading,
or looking out on the Place. The church
looked gloomy in the rain; it seemed to me
that the saints must be cold in their stone
niches. I was tired of seeing the great pools
of water in which the rain-drops fell, plash,
plash, without ever ceasing. But that was not
all. An imaginary scaffold was always before me.
I saw the block, and the axe, and the criminal,
and the hideous executioner; and so vivid was
the vision, that when I closed my eyes I saw it
still. It haunted me in my dreams, and on the
third night it woke me.

"A strong red light from the Place entered my
room through its three windows, fell on the
polished oak floor, and rose to the ceiling. It
was not the light of day. A dull sound of
hammering broke the silence of the night,
and I knew that those were not the sounds
of daily life. 'Louise!' I called, 'Louise!'
But Louise had left me. I was alone. I could
walk a little now. Shivering with fear, but
supported by a curiosity stronger than fear, I
crept out of bed and reached the window. I
opened it softly, and looked out. A pale mist
almost hid the church from me; behind it, above
a house which stood next it, I saw some grey
streaks in the sky. Dawn was breaking, but
the men who worked below had torches, and
it was their glare that I had seen from my bed.
The men were erecting the scaffold; I knew it at
once, and I looked with eager eyes that vainly
strove to pierce the darkness. Something black
I saw, and shapes that looked like spectres in
the red glow of the torches, but nothing more. I
could hear, however, and I heard one of the men.
swearing at another who had taken his hammer.

"'Do not swear,' said a voice I knew. 'You
do not know when you may stand in God's
presence.'

"One of the men suddenly moved his torch.
Its light fell on the face of the speaker, and I saw
him standing on the scaffold: pale, grave, but
composed, giving orders which the men obeyed.
How did I know that Monsieur Pierre was not
the criminal's brother? How did I know the
frightful duty which brought him there, and
would bring him there again and again, till death
should release him? I cannot tell you how I
knew it, but I knew it; my hair seemed to stand
on end, my blood turned cold with horror. I
uttered a frightful shriek, and fainted.

"When I recovered consciousness, I had been
ill and delirious for a whole fortnight. My aunt
was dead, and my father was sitting by me. I did
not remember well, and my first words were:

"'Where is Monsieur Pierre?'

"'Monsieur Pierre is dead,' answered my
father, gravely. 'He did not live to cure you,
but you must remember him in your prayers. I
have already caused masses to be said for the
repose of his soul.'

"Monsieur Pierre was dead. Heaven had