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<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Headswoman, by Kenneth Grahame
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Headswoman
Author: Kenneth Grahame
Illustrator: Marcia Lane Foster
Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34243]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HEADSWOMAN ***
Produced by Suzanne Shell, David Wilson and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
</pre>
<hr class="pg" />
<div class="main">
<h2 title="" class="pgbrk"><a name="png.002" id="png.002"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">i</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><big><i>The Headswoman</i></big></h2>
<div class="bysame">
<p class="ctr"><a name="png.003" id="png.003"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">ii</span><span class="ns">]</span><br
/><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></p>
<hr />
<p class="indent">THE GOLDEN AGE</p>
<p class="indent">DREAM DAYS</p>
<p class="indent">PAGAN PAPERS</p>
<hr />
<p class="ctr">THE BODLEY HEAD</p>
</div>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.005" id="png.005"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">iv</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="frontispiece" src="images/frontispiece.jpg"
alt="“Now that we have been properly introduced allow me to apologise”"
title="Frontispiece" />
</div>
<div class="tp">
<h1><a name="png.006" id="png.006"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">v</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>THE<br
/><big>HEADSWOMAN</big></h1>
<p class="ctr"><big><i>By</i> Kenneth Grahame</big></p>
<hr />
<p class="ctr"><i>With Illustrations in Colour<br
/>and Woodcuts by</i><br
/><span class="smcap">Marcia Lane Foster</span></p>
<hr />
<p class="ctr"><br
/><img class="doodad" src="images/doodad.jpg"
alt="" title="publisher's device" /></p>
<hr />
<p class="ctr"><i class="so">LONDON</i><br
/><small><i>John Lane The Bodley Head Limited<br
/>New York John Lane Company</i></small></p>
</div>
<p class="ctr top8"><a name="png.007" id="png.007"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">vi</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><small><i>First Published 1898</i><br
/><i>Illustrated Edition 1921</i></small></p>
<p class="ctr top8 pgbrk" style="border-top: thin solid gray;">
<small><i>Printed In Great Britain by R. Clay & Sons, Ltd., Bungay, Suffolk.</i></small></p>
<h2><a name="png.008" id="png.008"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">vii</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><big><i>List of Illustrations</i></big></h2>
<table class="loi pgbrk" summary="List of Illustrations">
<tr>
<td class="caption"><p>“<span class="smcap">Now That we have been properly introduced
allow me to apologise</span>”</p></td>
<td class="no2" colspan="2"><a href="#png.005"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="no3" colspan="3"><small><i>Facing page</i></small></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p>“<span class="smcap">You see I am Familiar with the Routine....
Good-morning, Gentlemen!</span>”</p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.020">8</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p>“<span class="smcap"><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</span>, Sir! If you should happen to be in
the Market-place any Morning</span>”</p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.042">28</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p><span class="smcap">Endeavouring to convey the Tardy Prisoner to the
Scaffold</span></p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.048">32</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p>“<span class="smcap">Nay, pardon me, Sweet One, ’twas but a Jest
of Mine</span>”</p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.054">36</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p><span class="smcap">But at this point a Hubbub arose at the Foot of
the Scaffold</span></p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.062">42</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p>“<span class="smcap">Now, mark my Words, you Miserable Little
Bladder-o’-Lard, see if I don’t take this out
of your Skin presently</span>”</p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.066">44</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td class="caption" colspan="2"><p><span class="smcap">An Invitation arrived, backed by an Escort of Half-a-dozen
very Tall Archers</span></p></td>
<td class="no"><a href="#png.070">46</a></td>
</tr><tr>
<td> </td><td> </td><td> </td>
</tr>
</table>
<h2 class="pgbrk"><a name="png.010" id="png.010"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">ix</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><big><i>The Headswoman</i></big></h2>
<p class="nif"><a name="png.012" id="png.012"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">1</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="masthead" src="images/masthead.png"
alt="woman carrying an axe over hear shoulder leading two men with their hands tied" title="" /></p>
<h2 class="first">I</h2>
<p class="first"><img class="dropcap" src="images/i.png" width="170" height="221"
alt="I" title="" /><span class="epub">I</span><span class="uc">t</span> was a bland, sunny morning
of a mediæval May,—an
old-style May of the
most typical quality; and
the Council of the little
town of St. Radegonde were
assembled, as was their wont
at that hour, in the picturesque upper
chamber of the Hôtel de Ville, for the
dispatch of the usual municipal business.
Though the date was early sixteenth century,
<a name="png.013" id="png.013"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">2</span><span class="ns">]
</span>the members of this particular town-council
possessed considerable resemblance
to those of similar assemblies in the seventeenth,
eighteenth, and even the nineteenth
centuries, in a general absence of any characteristic
at all—unless a pervading hopeless
insignificance can be considered as such.
All the character in the room, indeed,
seemed to be concentrated in the girl who
stood before the table, erect, yet at her ease,
facing the members in general and Mr.
Mayor in particular; a delicate-handed,
handsome girl of some eighteen summers,
whose tall, supple figure was well set off
by the quiet, though tasteful mourning in
which she was clad.</p>
<p>“Well, gentlemen,” the Mayor was saying,
“this little business appears to be—er—quite
in order, and it only remains for
me to—er—review the facts. You are
aware that the town has lately had the
<a name="png.014" id="png.014"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">3</span><span class="ns">]
</span>misfortune to lose its executioner,—a gentleman
who, I may say, performed the duties
of his office with neatness and dispatch,
and gave the fullest satisfaction to all with
whom he—er—came in contact. But the
Council has already, in a vote of condolence,
expressed its sense of the—er—striking
qualities of the deceased. You are doubtless
also aware that the office is hereditary,
being secured to a particular family in this
town, so long as any one of its members is
ready and willing to take it up. The deed
lies before me, and appears to be—er—quite
in order. It is true that on this
occasion the Council might have been called
upon to consider and examine the title of
the claimant, the late lamented official
having only left a daughter,—she who now
stands before you; but I am happy to say
that Jeanne—the young lady in question—with
what I am bound to call great good-feeling
<a name="png.015" id="png.015"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">4</span><span class="ns">]
</span>on her part, has saved us all trouble
in that respect, by formally applying for the
family post, with all its—er—duties, privileges,
and emoluments; and her application
appears to be—er—quite in order.
There is, therefore, under the circumstances,
nothing left for us to do but to declare the
said applicant duly elected. I would wish,
however, before I—er—sit down, to make
it quite clear to the—er—fair petitioner,
that if a laudable desire to save the Council
trouble in the matter has led her to a—er—hasty
conclusion, it is quite open to
her to reconsider her position. Should she
determine not to press her claim, the succession
to the post would then apparently
devolve upon her cousin Enguerrand, well
known to you all as a practising advocate
in the courts of this town. Though the
youth has not, I admit, up to now proved
a conspicuous success in the profession he
<a name="png.016" id="png.016"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">5</span><span class="ns">]
</span>has chosen, still there is no reason why a
bad lawyer should not make an excellent
executioner; and in view of the close
friendship—may I even say attachment?—existing
between the cousins, it is possible
that this young lady may, in due course,
practically enjoy the solid emoluments of
the position without the necessity of discharging
its (to some girls) uncongenial
duties. And so, though not the rose
herself, she would still be—er—near the
rose!” And the Mayor resumed his seat,
chuckling over his little pleasantry, which
the keener wits of the Council proceeded to
explain at length to the more obtuse.</p>
<p>“Permit me, Mr. Mayor,” said the girl
quietly, “first to thank you for what was
evidently the outcome of a kindly though
misdirected feeling on your part; and then
to set you right as to the grounds of my
application for the post to which you
<a name="png.017" id="png.017"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">6</span><span class="ns">]
</span>admit my hereditary claim. As to my
cousin, your conjecture as to the feeling
between us is greatly exaggerated; and I
may further say at once, from my knowledge
of his character, that he is little
qualified either to adorn or to dignify an
important position such as this. A man
who has achieved such indifferent success
in a minor and less exacting walk of life, is
hardly likely to shine in an occupation
demanding punctuality, concentration, judgment,—all
the qualities, in fine, that go to
make a good business man. But this is
beside the question. My motive, gentlemen,
in demanding what is my due, is a
simple and (I trust) an honest one, and I
desire that there should be no misunderstanding.
It is my wish to be dependent
on no one. I am both willing and able
to work, and I only ask for what is the
common right of humanity,—admission
<a name="png.018" id="png.018"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">7</span><span class="ns">]
</span>to the labour market. How many poor,
toiling women would simply jump at a
chance like this which fortune, by the
accident of birth, lays open to me! And
shall I, from any false deference to that conventional
voice which proclaims this thing
as ‘nice,’ and that thing as ‘not nice,’ reject
a handicraft which promises me both
artistic satisfaction and a competence?
No, gentlemen; my claim is a small one,—only
a fair day’s wage for a fair day’s
work. But I can accept nothing less, nor
consent to forgo my rights, even for any
contingent remainder of possible cousinly
favour!”</p>
<p>There was a touch of scorn in her fine
contralto voice as she finished speaking;
the Mayor himself beamed approval. He
was not wealthy, and had a large family of
daughters; so Jeanne’s sentiments seemed
to him entirely right and laudable.</p>
<p><a name="png.019" id="png.019"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">8</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“Well, gentlemen,” he began briskly,
“then all we’ve got to do, is <span class="nw">to——</span>”</p>
<p>“Beg pardon, your worship,” put in
Master Robinet, the tanner, who had been
sitting with a petrified, Bill-the-Lizard sort
of expression during the speechifying:
“but are we to understand as how this
here young lady is going to be the public
executioner of this here town?”</p>
<p>“Really, neighbour Robinet,” said the
Mayor, somewhat pettishly, “you’ve got
ears like the rest of us, I suppose; and
you know the contents of the deed; and
you’ve had my assurance that it’s—er—quite
in order; and as it’s getting towards
<span class="nw">lunch-time——</span>”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“But it’s unheard of,” protested honest
Robinet. “There hasn’t ever been no
such thing—leastways not as I’ve heard
tell.”</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.020" id="png.020"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">8a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-8a" src="images/illo-8a.jpg"
alt="“You see I am familiar with the routine.... Good-morning, Gentlemen!”"
title="" />
</div>
<p>“Well, well, well,” said the Mayor,
<a name="png.022" id="png.022"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">9</span><span class="ns">]
</span>“everything must have a beginning, I
suppose. Times are different now, you
know. There’s the march of intellect,
and—er—all that sort of thing. We
must advance with the times—don’t you
see, Robinet?—advance with the times!”</p>
<p>“Well, <span class="nw">I’m——</span>” began the tanner.</p>
<p>But no one heard, on this occasion, the
tanner’s opinion as to his condition, physical
or spiritual; for the clear contralto cut
short his obtestations.</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“If there’s really nothing more to be
said, Mr. Mayor,” she remarked, “I need
not trespass longer on your valuable time.
I propose to take up the duties of my
office to-morrow morning, at the usual
hour. The salary will, I assume, be reckoned
from the same date; and I shall
make the customary quarterly application
for such additional emoluments as may
have accrued to me during that period.
<a name="png.023" id="png.023"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">10</span><span class="ns">]
</span>You see I am familiar with the routine.
Good-morning, gentlemen!” And as she
passed from the Council chamber, her
small head held erect, even the tanner felt
that she took with her a large portion
of the May sunshine which was condescending
that morning to gild their
deliberations.</p>
<h2><a name="png.024" id="png.024"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">11</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>II</h2>
<p class="first"><img class="dropcap" src="images/o.png" width="228" height="187"
alt="O" title="" /><span class="epub">O</span><span class="uc">ne</span> evening, a few
weeks later, Jeanne
was taking a stroll on
the ramparts of the
town, a favourite and
customary walk of
hers when business cares were over. The
pleasant expanse of country that lay spread
beneath her—the rich sunset, the gleaming,
sinuous river, and the noble old château that
dominated both town and pasture from
its adjacent height—all served to stir and
bring out in her those poetic impulses
which had lain dormant during the working
day; while the cool evening breeze
smoothed out and obliterated any little jars
<a name="png.025" id="png.025"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">12</span><span class="ns">]
</span>or worries which might have ensued during
the practice of a profession in which she was
still something of a novice. This evening
she felt fairly happy and content. True,
business was rather brisk, and her days had
been fully occupied; but this mattered little
so long as her modest efforts were appreciated,
and she was now really beginning to feel
that, with practice, her work was creditably
and artistically done. In a satisfied, somewhat
dreamy mood, she was drinking
in the various sweet influences of the
evening, when she perceived her cousin
approaching.</p>
<p>“Good-evening, Enguerrand,” cried
Jeanne pleasantly; she was thinking that
since she had begun to work for her living
she had hardly seen him—and they used
to be such good friends. Could anything
have occurred to offend him?</p>
<p>Enguerrand drew near somewhat moodily,
<a name="png.026" id="png.026"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">13</span><span class="ns">]
</span>but could not help allowing his expression
to relax at sight of her fair young face,
set in its framework of rich brown hair,
wherein the sunset seemed to have tangled
itself and to cling, reluctant to leave it.</p>
<p>“Sit down, Enguerrand,” continued
Jeanne, “and tell me what you’ve been
doing this long time. Been very busy, and
winning forensic fame and gold?”</p>
<p>“Well, not exactly,” said Enguerrand,
moody once more. “The fact is, there’s
so much interest required nowadays at the
courts that unassisted talent never gets a
chance. And you, Jeanne?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I don’t complain,” answered
Jeanne lightly. “Of course, it’s fair-time
just now, you know, and we’re always
busy then. But work will be lighter soon,
and then I’ll get a day off, and we’ll have
a delightful ramble and picnic in the woods,
as we used to do when we were children.
<a name="png.027" id="png.027"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">14</span><span class="ns">]
</span>What fun we had in those old days, Enguerrand!
Do you remember when we
were quite little tots, and used to play at
executions in the back-garden, and you
were a bandit and a buccaneer, and all
sorts of dreadful things, and I used to chop
off your head with a paper-knife? How
pleased dear father used to be!”</p>
<p>“Jeanne,” said Enguerrand, with some
hesitation, “you’ve touched upon the very
subject that I came to speak to you about.
Do you know, dear, I can’t help feeling—it
may be unreasonable, but still the feeling
is there—that the profession you have
adopted is not quite—is just a <span class="nw">little——</span>”</p>
<p>“Now, Enguerrand!” said Jeanne, an
angry flash sparkling in her eyes. She
was a little touchy on this subject, the
word she most affected to despise being also
the one she most dreaded,—the adjective
“unladylike.”</p>
<p><a name="png.028" id="png.028"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">15</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“Don’t misunderstand me, Jeanne,” went
on Enguerrand imploringly: “you may
naturally think that, because I should have
succeeded to the post, with its income
and perquisites, had you relinquished your
claim, there is therefore some personal feeling
in my remonstrances. Believe me, it
is not so. My own interests do not weigh
with me for a moment. It is on your
account, Jeanne, and yours alone, that I
ask you to consider whether the higher
æsthetic qualities, which I know you possess,
may not become cramped and thwarted
by ‘the trivial round, the common task,’
which you have lightly undertaken. However
laudable a professional life may be,
one always feels that with a delicate
organism such as woman, some of the
bloom may possibly get rubbed off the
peach.”</p>
<p>“Well, Enguerrand,” said Jeanne,
<a name="png.029" id="png.029"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">16</span><span class="ns">]
</span>composing herself with an effort, though
her lips were set hard, “I will do you the
justice to believe that personal advantage
does not influence you, and I will try to
reason calmly with you, and convince you
that you are simply hide-bound by old-world
prejudice. Now, take yourself, for
instance, who come here to instruct me:
what does <em>your</em> profession amount to, when
all’s said and done? A mass of lies, quibbles,
dodges, and tricks, that would make
any self-respecting executioner blush! And
even with the dirty weapons at your command,
you make but a poor show of it.
There was that wretched fellow you defended
only two days ago. (I was in court
during the trial—professional interest, you
know.) Well, he had his regular <i>alibi</i> all
ready, as clear as clear could be; only you
must needs go and mess and bungle the
thing up, so that, just as I expected all
<a name="png.030" id="png.030"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">17</span><span class="ns">]
</span>along, he was passed on to me for treatment
in due course. You may like to
have his opinion—that of a shrewd, though
unlettered person. ‘It’s a real pleasure,
miss,’ he said, ‘to be handled by you.
You <em>knows</em> your work, and you <em>does</em> your
work—though p’raps I ses it as shouldn’t.
If that blooming fool of a mouthpiece of
mine’—he was referring to you, dear, in
your capacity of advocate—‘had known
his business half as well as you do yours,
I shouldn’t a bin here now!’ And
you know, Enguerrand, he was perfectly
right.”</p>
<p>“Well, perhaps he was,” admitted Enguerrand.
“You see, I had been working
at a sonnet the night before, and I couldn’t
get the rhymes right, and they would keep
coming into my head in court and mixing
themselves up with the <i>alibi</i>. But look
here, Jeanne, when you saw I was going
<a name="png.031" id="png.031"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">18</span><span class="ns">]
</span>off the track, you might have given me a
friendly hint, you know—for old times’
sake, if not for the prisoner’s!”</p>
<p>“I daresay,” replied Jeanne calmly: “perhaps
you’ll tell me why I should sacrifice
my interests because you’re unable to look
after yours. You forget that I receive a
bonus, over and above my salary, upon each
exercise of my functions!”</p>
<p>“True,” said Enguerrand gloomily: “I
did forget that. I wish I had your business
aptitudes, Jeanne.”</p>
<p>“I daresay you do,” remarked Jeanne.
“But you see, dear, how all your arguments
fall to the ground. You mistake a
prepossession for a logical base. Now if
I had gone, like that Clairette you used
to dangle after, and been waiting-woman
to some grand lady in a château,—a
thin-blooded compound of drudge and
sycophant,—then, I suppose, you’d have
<a name="png.032" id="png.032"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">19</span><span class="ns">]
</span>been perfectly satisfied. So feminine! So
genteel!”</p>
<p>“She’s not a bad sort of girl, little Claire,”
said Enguerrand reflectively (thereby angering
Jeanne afresh): “but putting her aside,—of
course you could always beat me at
argument, Jeanne; you’d have made a
much better lawyer than I. But you know,
dear, how much I care about you; and I
did hope that on that account even a prejudice,
however unreasonable, might have
some little weight. And I’m not alone,
let me tell you, in my views. There was
a fellow in court only to-day, who was saying
that yours was only a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">succès d’estime</i>,
and that woman, as a naturally talkative
and hopelessly unpunctual animal, could
never be more than a clever amateur in
the profession you have chosen.”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“That will do, Enguerrand,” said Jeanne
proudly; “it seems that when argument
<a name="png.033" id="png.033"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">20</span><span class="ns">]
</span>fails, you can stoop so low as to insult me
through my sex. You men are all alike,—steeped
in brutish masculine prejudice. Now
go away, and don’t mention the subject to
me again till you’re quite reasonable and
nice.”</p>
<h2><a name="png.034" id="png.034"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">21</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>III</h2>
<p class="first"><img class="dropcap" src="images/j.png" width="186" height="206"
alt="J" title="" /><span class="epub">J</span><span class="uc">eanne</span> passed a somewhat
restless night after
her small scene with her
cousin, waking depressed
and unrefreshed. Though
she had carried matters
with so high a hand,
and had scored so distinctly all around,
she had been more agitated than she had
cared to show. She liked Enguerrand;
and more especially did she like his
admiration for her; and that chance
allusion to Clairette contained possibilities
that were alarming. In embracing a professional
career, she had never thought for
<a name="png.035" id="png.035"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">22</span><span class="ns">]
</span>a moment that it could militate against that
due share of admiration to which, as a
girl, she was justly entitled; and Enguerrand’s
views seemed this morning all the
more narrow and inexcusable. She rose
languidly, and as soon as she was dressed
sent off a little note to the Mayor, saying
that she had a nervous headache and felt
out of sorts, and begging to be excused
from attendance on that day; and the
missive reached the Mayor just as he was
taking his usual place at the head of the
Board.</p>
<p>“Dear, dear!” said the kind-hearted old
man, as soon as he had read the letter to
his fellow-councilmen: “I’m very sorry.
Poor girl! Here, one of you fellows, just
run round and tell the gaoler there won’t
be any business to-day. Jeanne’s seedy.
It’s put off till to-morrow. And now,
gentlemen, the <span class="nw">agenda——</span>”</p>
<p><a name="png.036" id="png.036"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">23</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“Really, your worship,” exploded Robinet,
“this is simply ridiculous!”</p>
<p>“Upon my word, Robinet,” said the
Mayor, “I don’t know what’s the matter
with you. Here’s a poor girl unwell,—and
a more hard-working girl isn’t in the
town,—and instead of sympathising with
her, and saying you’re sorry, you call it
ridiculous! Suppose you had a headache
yourself! You wouldn’t <span class="nw">like——</span>”</p>
<p>“But it <em>is</em> ridiculous,” maintained the
tanner stoutly. “Who ever heard of an
executioner having a nervous headache?
There’s no precedent for it. And ‘out of
sorts,’ too! Suppose the criminals said
they were out of sorts, and didn’t feel up
to being executed?”</p>
<p>“Well, suppose they did,” replied the
Mayor, “we’d try and meet them half-way,
I daresay. They’d have to be executed
some time or other, you know. Why on
<a name="png.037" id="png.037"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">24</span><span class="ns">]
</span>earth are you so captious about trifles?
The prisoners won’t mind, and <em>I</em> don’t
mind: nobody’s inconvenienced, and everybody’s
happy!”</p>
<p>“You’re right there, Mr. Mayor,” put
in another councilman. “This executing
business used to give the town a lot of
trouble and bother; now it’s all as easy as
kiss-your-hand. Instead of objecting, as
they used to do, and wanting to argue
the point and kick up a row, the fellows as
is told off for execution come skipping
along in the morning, like a lot of
lambs in May-time. And then the fun
there is on the scaffold! The jokes, the
back answers, the repartees! And never
a word to shock a baby! Why, my
little girl, as goes through the market-place
every morning—on her way to
school, you know—she says to me only
yesterday, she says, ‘Why, father,’ she
<a name="png.038" id="png.038"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">25</span><span class="ns">]
</span>says, ‘it’s as good as the play-actors,’ she
says.”</p>
<p>“There again,” persisted Robinet; “I
object to that too. They ought to show a
properer feeling. Playing at mummers is
one thing, and being executed is another,
and people ought to keep ’em separate. In
my father’s time, that sort of thing wasn’t
thought good taste, and I don’t hold with
new-fangled notions.”</p>
<p>“Well, really, neighbour,” said the Mayor,
“I think you’re out of sorts yourself to-day.
You must have got out of bed the
wrong side this morning. As for a little
joke, more or less, we all know a maiden
loves a merry jest when she’s certain of
having the last word! But I’ll tell you
what I’ll do, if it’ll please you; I’ll go
round and see Jeanne myself on my way
home, and tell her—quite nicely, you
know—that once in a way doesn’t matter;
<a name="png.039" id="png.039"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">26</span><span class="ns">]
</span>but that if she feels her health won’t let
her keep regular business hours, she
mustn’t think of going on with anything
that’s bad for her. Like that, don’t you
see? And now, gentlemen, let’s read the
minutes!”</p>
<p>Thus it came about that Jeanne took her
usual walk that evening with a ruffled brow
and a swelling heart; and her little hand
opened and shut angrily as she paced the
ramparts. She couldn’t stand being found
fault with. How could she help having a
headache? Those clods of citizens didn’t
know what a highly strung sensitive organisation
was. Absorbed in her reflections,
she had taken several turns up and down
the grassy footway before she became
aware that she was not alone. A youth,
of richer dress and more elegant bearing
than the general run of the Radegundians,
was leaning in an embrasure,
<a name="png.040" id="png.040"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">27</span><span class="ns">]
</span>watching the graceful figure with evident
interest.</p>
<p>“Something has vexed you, fair maiden?”
he observed, coming forward deferentially
as soon as he perceived he was noticed;
“and care sits but awkwardly on that
smooth young brow.”</p>
<p>“Nay, it is nothing, kind sir,” replied
Jeanne; “we girls who work for our
living must not be too sensitive. My
employers have been somewhat exigent, that
is all. I did wrong to take it to heart.”</p>
<p>“’Tis the way of the bloated capitalist,”
rejoined the young man lightly, as he
turned to walk by her side. “They grind
us, they grind us; perhaps some day they
will come under your hands in turn, and
then you can pay them out. And so you
toil and spin, fair lily! And yet, methinks,
those delicate hands show little trace of
labour?”</p>
<p><a name="png.041" id="png.041"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">28</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“You wrong me, indeed, sir,” replied
Jeanne merrily. “These hands of mine,
that you are so good as to admire, do great
execution!”</p>
<p>“I can well believe that your victims are
numerous,” he replied; “may I be permitted
to rank myself among the latest of
them?”</p>
<p>“I wish you a better fortune, kind sir,”
answered Jeanne demurely.</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“I can imagine no more delightful one,”
he replied; “and where do you ply your
daily task, fair mistress? Not entirely out
of sight and access, I trust?”</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.042" id="png.042"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">28a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-28a" src="images/illo-28a.jpg"
alt="“Au revoir, sir! If you should happen to be in the market-place any morning.”"
title="" />
</div>
<p class="pgbrk">“Nay, sir,” laughed Jeanne, “I work in
the market-place most mornings, and there
is no charge for admission; and access is
far from difficult. Indeed, some complain—but
that is no business of mine. And
now I must be wishing you a good-evening.
Nay,”—for he would have detained her,—“it
<a name="png.044" id="png.044"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">29</span><span class="ns">]
</span>is not seemly for an unprotected
maiden to tarry in converse with a stranger
at this hour. <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Au revoir</i>, sir! If you
should happen to be in the market-place
any <span class="nw">morning——</span>” And she tripped lightly
away. The youth, gazing after her retreating
figure, confessed himself strangely
fascinated by this fair unknown, whose
particular employment, by the way, he
had forgotten to ask; while Jeanne, as
she sped homewards, could not help
reflecting that, for style and distinction,
this new acquaintance threw into the
shade all the Enguerrands and others she
had met hitherto—even in the course of
business.</p>
<h2><a name="png.045" id="png.045"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">30</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>IV</h2>
<p class="first"><img class="dropcap" src="images/t.png" width="190" height="227"
alt="T" title="" /><span class="epub">T</span><span class="uc">he</span> next morning was
bright and breezy, and
Jeanne was early at her
post, feeling quite a
different girl. The busy
little market-place was
full of colour and movement,
and the gay patches of flowers
and fruit, the strings of fluttering kerchiefs,
and the piles of red and yellow
pottery, formed an artistic setting to the
quiet impressive scaffold which they framed.
Jeanne was in short sleeves, according to
the etiquette of her office, and her round
graceful arms showed snowily against her
<a name="png.046" id="png.046"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">31</span><span class="ns">]
</span>dark blue skirt and scarlet, tight-fitting
bodice. Her assistant looked at her with
admiration.</p>
<p>“Hope you’re better, miss,” he said
respectfully. “It was just as well you
didn’t put yourself out to come yesterday;
there was nothing particular to do. Only
one fellow, and <em>he</em> said he didn’t care; anything
to oblige a lady!”</p>
<p>“Well, I wish he’d hurry up now, to
oblige a lady,” said Jeanne, swinging her
axe carelessly to and fro: “ten minutes
past the hour; I shall have to talk to the
Mayor about this.”</p>
<p>“It’s a pity there ain’t a better show
this morning,” pursued the assistant, as he
leant over the rail of the scaffold and spat
meditatively into the busy throng below.
“They do say as how the young Seigneur
arrived at the Château yesterday—him as
has been finishing his education in Paris,
<a name="png.047" id="png.047"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">32</span><span class="ns">]
</span>you know. He’s as likely as not to be in
the market-place to-day; and if he’s disappointed,
he may go off to Paris again,
which would be a pity, seeing the Château’s
been empty so long. But he may go to
Paris, or anywhere else he’s a mind to, he
won’t see better workmanship than in this
here little town!”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“Well, my good Raoul,” said Jeanne,
colouring slightly at the obvious compliment,
“quality, not quantity, is what we
aim at here, you know. If a Paris education
has been properly assimilated by the
Seigneur, he will not fail to make all the
necessary allowances. But see, the prison-doors
are opening at last!”</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.048" id="png.048"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">32a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-32a" src="images/illo-32a.jpg"
alt="Endeavouring to convey the tardy prisoner to the scaffold."
title="" />
</div>
<p>They both looked across the little square
to the prison, which fronted the scaffold;
and sure enough, a small body of men, the
Sheriff at their head, was issuing from the
building, conveying, or endeavouring to
<a name="png.050" id="png.050"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">33</span><span class="ns">]
</span>convey, the tardy prisoner to the scaffold.
That gentleman, however, seemed to be in
a different and less obliging frame of mind
from that of the previous day; and at every
pace one or other of the guards was shot
violently into the middle of the square,
propelled by a vigorous kick or blow from
the struggling captive. The crowd, unaccustomed
of late to such demonstrations of
feeling, and resenting the prisoner’s want
of taste, hooted loudly; but it was not
until that ingenious mediæval arrangement
known as <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">la marche aux crapauds</i> had been
brought to bear on him that the reluctant
convict could be prevailed upon to present
himself before the young lady he had already
so unwarrantably detained.</p>
<p>Jeanne’s profession had both accustomed
her to surprises and taught her the futility
of considering her clients as drawn from
any one particular class; yet she could
<a name="png.051" id="png.051"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">34</span><span class="ns">]
</span>hardly help feeling some astonishment on
recognising her new acquaintance of the
previous evening. That, with all his evident
amiability of character, he should
come to this end, was not in itself a special
subject for wonder; but that he should
have been conversing with her on the ramparts
at the hour when—after courteously
excusing her attendance on the scaffold—he
was cooling his heels in prison for another
day, seemed hardly to be accounted
for, at first sight. Jeanne, however, reflected
that the reconciling of apparent contradictions
was not included in her official
duties.</p>
<p>The Sheriff, wiping his heated brow, now
read the formal <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">procès</i> delivering over the
prisoner to the executioner’s hands; “and
a nice job we’ve had to get him here,”
he added on his own account. And the
young man, who had remained perfectly
<a name="png.052" id="png.052"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">35</span><span class="ns">]
</span>tractable since his arrival, stepped forward
and bowed politely.</p>
<p>“Now that we have been properly introduced,”
said he courteously, “allow me
to apologise for any inconvenience you have
been put to by my delay. The fault was
entirely mine, and these gentlemen are in
no way to blame. Had I known whom I
was to have the pleasure of meeting, wings
could not have conveyed me swiftly enough.”</p>
<p>“Do not mention, I pray, the word inconvenience,”
replied Jeanne, with that
timid grace which so well became her.
“I only trust that any slight discomfort it
may be my duty to cause you before we
part will be as easily pardoned. And
now—for the morning, alas! advances—any
little advice or assistance that I can
offer is quite at your service; for the situation
is possibly new, and you may have
had but little experience.”</p>
<p><a name="png.053" id="png.053"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">36</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“Faith! none worth mentioning,” said
the prisoner gaily. “Treat me as a raw
beginner. Though our acquaintance has
been but brief, I have the utmost confidence
in you.”</p>
<p>“Then, sir,” said Jeanne, blushing, “suppose
I were to assist you in removing this
gay doublet, so as to give both of us more
freedom and less responsibility?”</p>
<p>“A perquisite of the office?” queried
the prisoner with a smile, as he slipped
one arm out of its sleeve.</p>
<p>A flush came over Jeanne’s fair brow.
“That was ungenerous,” she said.</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“Nay, pardon me, sweet one,” said he,
laughing: “’twas but a poor jest of mine—in
bad taste, I willingly admit.”</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.054" id="png.054"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">36a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-36a" src="images/illo-36a.jpg"
alt="“Nay pardon me, sweet one, ’twas but a jest of mine.” ..."
title="" />
</div>
<p>“I was sure you did not mean to hurt
me,” she replied kindly, while her fingers
were busy in turning back the collar of his
shirt. It was composed, she noticed, of
<a name="png.056" id="png.056"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">37</span><span class="ns">]
</span>the finest point lace; and she could not
help a feeling of regret that some slight
error—as must, from what she knew,
exist somewhere—should compel her to
take a course so at variance with her real
feelings. Her only comfort was that the
youth himself seemed entirely satisfied
with his situation. He hummed the last
air from Paris during her ministrations,
and when she had quite finished, kissed
the pretty fingers with a metropolitan
grace.</p>
<p>“And now, sir,” said Jeanne, “if you
will kindly come this way: and please to
mind the step—so. Now, if you will have
the goodness to kneel here—nay, the sawdust
is perfectly clean; you are my first
client this morning. On the other side of
the block you will find a nick, more or
less adapted to the human chin, though
a perfect fit cannot, of course, be
<a name="png.057" id="png.057"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">38</span><span class="ns">]
</span>guaranteed in every case. So! Are you
pretty comfortable?”</p>
<p>“A bed of roses,” replied the prisoner.
“And what a really admirable view one
gets of the valley and the river, from just
this particular point!”</p>
<p>“Charming, is it not?” replied Jeanne.
“I’m so glad you do justice to it. Some
of your predecessors have really quite
vexed me by their inability to appreciate
that view. It’s worth coming here
to see it. And now, to return to business
for one moment,—would you prefer
to give the word yourself? Some people
do; it’s a mere matter of taste. Or
will you leave yourself entirely in my
hands?”</p>
<p>“Oh, in your fair hands,” replied her
client, “which I beg you to consider
respectfully kissed once more by your
faithful servant to command.”</p>
<p><a name="png.058" id="png.058"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">39</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>Jeanne, blushing rosily, stepped back a
pace, moistening her palms as she grasped
her axe, when a puffing and blowing behind
caused her to turn her head, and she
perceived the Mayor hastily ascending the
scaffold.</p>
<p>“Hold on a minute, Jeanne, my girl,” he
gasped. “Don’t be in a hurry. There’s
been some little mistake.”</p>
<p>Jeanne drew herself up with dignity.
“I’m afraid I don’t quite understand you,
Mr. Mayor,” she replied in freezing
accents. “There’s been no little mistake
on my part that I’m aware of.”</p>
<p>“No, no, no,” said the Mayor apologetically;
“but on somebody else’s there has.
You see it happened in this way: this here
young fellow was going round the town
last night; and he’d been dining, I should
say, and he was carrying on rather free. I
will only say so much in your presence,
<a name="png.059" id="png.059"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">40</span><span class="ns">]
</span>that he was carrying on decidedly free.
So the town-guard happened to come
across him, and he was very high and very
haughty, he was, and wouldn’t give his
name nor yet his address—as a gentleman
should, you know, when he’s been dining
and carrying on free. So our fellows just
ran him in—and it took the pick of them
all their time to do it, too. Well, then, the
other chap who was in prison—the gentleman
who obliged you yesterday, you
know—what does he do but slip out and
run away in the middle of all the row and
confusion; and very inconsiderate and ungentlemanly
it was of him to take advantage
of us in that mean way, just when we
wanted a little sympathy and forbearance.
Well, the Sheriff comes this morning to
fetch out his man for execution, and he
knows there’s only one man to execute,
and he sees there’s only one man in prison,
<a name="png.060" id="png.060"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">41</span><span class="ns">]
</span>and it all seems as simple as <span class="nw">A B C—</span>he
never was much of a mathematician, you
know—so he fetches our friend here along,
quite gaily. And—and that’s how it came
about, you see; <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">hinc illæ lachrymæ</i>, as the
Roman poet has it. So now I shall just
give this young fellow a good talking to,
and discharge him with a caution; and we
sha’n’t require you any more to-day, Jeanne,
my girl.”</p>
<p>“Now, look here, Mr. Mayor,” said
Jeanne severely, “you utterly fail to grasp
the situation in its true light. All these
little details may be interesting in themselves,
and doubtless the press will take
note of them; but they are entirely beside
the point. With the muddleheadedness of
your officials (which I have frequently remarked
upon) I have nothing whatever to
do. All I know is, that this young gentleman
has been formally handed over to me
<a name="png.061" id="png.061"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">42</span><span class="ns">]
</span>for execution, with all the necessary legal
requirements; and executed he has got to
be. When my duty has been performed,
you are at liberty to reopen the case if
you like; and any ‘little mistake’ that
may have occurred through your stupidity
you can then rectify at your leisure.
Meantime, you’ve no <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">locus standi</i> here at
all; in fact, you’ve no business whatever
lumbering up my scaffold. So shut up and
clear out.”</p>
<p>“Now, Jeanne, do be reasonable,” implored
the Mayor. “You women are so
precise. You never will make any allowance
for the necessary margin of error in
things.”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“If I were to allow the necessary margin
for all <em>your</em> errors, Mayor,” replied Jeanne
coolly, “the edition would have to be a
large-paper one, and even then the text
would stand a poor chance. And now, if
<a name="png.064" id="png.064"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">43</span><span class="ns">]
</span>you don’t allow me the necessary margin
to swing my axe, there may be another
‘little <span class="nw">mistake’——</span>”</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.062" id="png.062"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">42a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-42a" src="images/illo-42a.jpg"
alt="But at this point a hubbub arose at the foot of the scaffold."
title="" />
</div>
<p>But at this point a hubbub arose at the
foot of the scaffold, and Jeanne, leaning
over, perceived sundry tall fellows, clad in
the livery of the Seigneur, engaged in
dispersing the municipal guard by the
agency of well-directed kicks, applied with
heartiness and anatomical knowledge. A
moment later, there strode on to the
scaffold, clad in black velvet, and adorned
with his gold chain of office, the stately old
seneschal of the Château, evidently in a
towering passion.</p>
<p>“Now, mark my words, you miserable
little bladder-o’-lard,” he roared at the
Mayor (whose bald head certainly shone
provokingly in the morning sun), “see if I
don’t take this out of your skin presently!”
And he passed on to where the youth was
<a name="png.065" id="png.065"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">44</span><span class="ns">]
</span>still kneeling, apparently quite absorbed in
the view.</p>
<p>“My lord,” he said firmly though
respectfully, “your hair-brained folly really
passes all bounds. Have you entirely lost
your head?”</p>
<p>“Faith, nearly,” said the young man,
rising and stretching himself. “Is that
you, old Thibault? Ow, what a crick I’ve
got in my neck! But that view of the
valley was really delightful!”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">“Did you come here simply to admire
the view, my lord?” inquired Thibault
severely.</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.066" id="png.066"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">44a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-44a" src="images/illo-44a.jpg"
alt="“Now mark my words you miserable little bladder-o’-lard,
see if I don’t take this out of your skin presently.”"
title="" />
</div>
<p>“I came because my horse would come,”
replied the young Seigneur lightly: “that
is, these gentlemen here were so pressing;
they would not hear of any refusal; and
besides, they forgot to mention what my
attendance was required in such a hurry
for. And when I got here, Thibault, old
<a name="png.068" id="png.068"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">45</span><span class="ns">]
</span>fellow, and saw that divine creature—nay,
a goddess, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">dea certé</i>—so graceful, so
modest, so anxious to acquit herself with
<span class="nw">credit——</span> Well, you know my weakness;
I never could bear to disappoint a woman.
She had evidently set her heart on taking
my head; and as she had my heart
<span class="nw">already——</span>”</p>
<p>“I think, my lord,” said Thibault, with
some severity, “you had better let me
escort you back to the Château. This
appears to be hardly a safe place for light-headed
and susceptible persons!”</p>
<p class="pgbrk">Jeanne, as was natural, had the last word.
“Understand me, Mr. Mayor,” said she,
“these proceedings are entirely irregular.
I decline to recognise them, and when the
quarter expires I shall claim the usual
bonus!”</p>
<h2><a name="png.069" id="png.069"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">46</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>V</h2>
<p class="first pgbrk"><img class="dropcap" src="images/w.png" width="280" height="129"
alt="W" title="" /><span class="epub">W</span><span class="uc">hen</span>, an hour or
two later, an invitation
arrived—courteously
worded
but significantly backed by an escort of
half-a-dozen tall archers—for both Jeanne
and the Mayor to attend at the Château
without delay, Jeanne for her part received
it with neither surprise nor reluctance. She
had felt it especially hard that the only two
interviews fate had granted her with the
one man who had made some impression on
her heart should be hampered, the one by
considerations of propriety, the other by
the conflicting claims of her profession
<a name="png.072" id="png.072"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">47</span><span class="ns">]
</span>and its duties. On this occasion, now,
she would have an excellent chaperon in
the Mayor; and, business being over for
the day, they could meet and unbend on
a common social footing. The Mayor
was not at all surprised either, considering
what had gone before; but he was exceedingly
terrified, and sought some consolation
from Jeanne as they proceeded
together to the Château. That young
lady’s remarks, however, could hardly be
called exactly comforting.</p>
<div class="illo">
<a name="png.070" id="png.070"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">46a</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span><img class="illo-46a" src="images/illo-46a.jpg"
alt="An invitation arrived, backed by an escort of half-a-dozen tall archers."
title="" />
</div>
<p>“I always thought you’d put your foot
in it some day, Mayor,” she said. “You
are so hopelessly wanting in system and
method. Really, under the present happy-go-lucky
police arrangements, I never know
whom I may not be called upon to
execute. Between you and my cousin
Enguerrand, life is hardly safe in this
town. And the worst of it is, that we
<a name="png.073" id="png.073"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">48</span><span class="ns">]
</span>other officials on the staff have to share
in the discredit.”</p>
<p>“What do you think they’ll do to me,
Jeanne?” whimpered the Mayor, perspiring
freely.</p>
<p>“Can’t say, I’m sure,” pursued the candid
Jeanne. “Of course, if it’s anything
in the <em>rack</em> line of business, I shall have
to superintend the arrangements, and then
you can feel sure you’re in capable hands.
But probably they’ll only fine you pretty
smartly, give you a month or two in the
dungeons, and dismiss you from your post;
and you will hardly grudge any slight
personal inconvenience resulting from an
arrangement so much to the advantage of
the town.”</p>
<p>This was hardly reassuring, but the
Mayor’s official reprimand of the previous
day still rankled in this unforgiving young
person’s mind.</p>
<p><a name="png.074" id="png.074"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">49</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>On their reaching the Château the
Mayor was conducted aside, to be dealt
with by Thibault; and from the sounds of
agonised protestation and lament which
shortly reached Jeanne’s ears, it was evident
that he was having a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mauvais quart
d’heure</i>. The young lady was shown respectfully
into a chamber apart, where she
had hardly had time to admire sufficiently
the good taste of the furniture and the
magnificence of the tapestry with which
the walls were hung, when the Seigneur
entered and welcomed her with a cordial
grace that put her entirely at her ease.</p>
<p>“Your punctuality puts me to shame,
fair mistress,” he said, “considering how
unwarrantably I kept you waiting this
morning, and how I tested your patience
by my ignorance and awkwardness.”</p>
<p>He had changed his dress, and the lace
round his neck was even richer than before.
<a name="png.075" id="png.075"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">50</span><span class="ns">]
</span>Jeanne had always considered one of the
chief marks of a well-bred man to be a fine
disregard for the amount of his washing-bill;
and then with what good taste he
referred to recent events—putting himself
in the wrong, as a gentleman should!</p>
<p>“Indeed, my lord,” she replied modestly,
“I was only too anxious to hear from your
own lips that you bore me no ill-will for the
part forced on me by circumstances in our recent
interview. Your lordship has sufficient
critical good sense, I feel sure, to distinguish
between the woman and the official.”</p>
<p>“True, Jeanne,” he replied, drawing
nearer; “and while I shrink from expressing,
in their fulness, all the feelings that
the woman inspires in me, I have no hesitation—for
I know it will give you pleasure—in
acquainting you with the entire
artistic satisfaction with which I watched
you at your task!”</p>
<p><a name="png.076" id="png.076"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">51</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“But, indeed,” said Jeanne, “you did
not see me at my best. In fact, I can’t
help wishing—it’s ridiculous, I know, because
the thing is hardly practicable—but
if I could only have carried my performance
quite through, and put the last finishing
touches to it, you would not have been
judging me now by the mere ‘blocking-in’
of what promised to be a masterpiece!”</p>
<p>“Yes, I wish it could have been arranged
somehow,” said the Seigneur, reflectively;
“but perhaps it’s better as it is. I am
content to let the artist remain for the
present on trust, if I may only take over,
fully paid up, the woman I adore!”</p>
<p>Jeanne felt strangely weak. The official
seemed oozing out at her fingers and toes,
while the woman’s heart beat even more
distressingly.</p>
<p>“I have one little question to ask,” he
murmured (his arm was about her now).</p>
<p><a name="png.077" id="png.077"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">52</span><span class="ns">]<br
/></span>“Do I understand that you still claim your
bonus?”</p>
<p>Jeanne felt like water in his strong
embrace; but she nerved herself to answer,
faintly but firmly, “Yes!”</p>
<p>“Then so do I,” he replied, as his lips
met hers.</p>
<p class="fivestar">· · · · · · ·</p>
<p>Executions continued to occur in St.
Radegonde; the Radegundians being conservative
and very human. But much of
the innocent enjoyment that formerly
attended them departed after the fair
Châtelaine had ceased to officiate. Enguerrand,
on succeeding to the post,
wedded Clairette, she being (he was heard
to say) a more suitable match in mind and
temper than others of whom he would
name no names. Rumour had it, that he
found his match and something over;
while as for temper—and mind (which
<a name="png.078" id="png.078"></a><span class="ns">[p </span><span
class="pgmark">53</span><span class="ns">]
</span>she gave him in bits). But the domestic
trials of high-placed officials have a right
to be held sacred. The profession, in spite
of his best endeavours, languished nevertheless.
Some said that the scaffold lacked
its old attraction for criminals of spirit;
others, more unkindly, that the headsman
was the innocent cause, and that Enguerrand
was less fatal in his new sphere than
formerly, when practising in the criminal
court as advocate for the defence.</p>
<p class="fin">
<img class="theend" src="images/theend.png"
alt="THE END" title="" /></p>
</div>
<hr class="pg" />
<pre>
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</pre>
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