shoulders, and thus the children had the best view. The Monte
Pincio seemed a vast amphitheatre filled with spectators; the
balconies of the two churches at the corner of the Via del Babuino
and the Via di Ripetta were crammed; the steps even seemed a
parti-colored sea, that was impelled towards the portico; every
niche in the wall held its living statue. What the count said was
true — the most curious spectacle in life is that of death. And
yet, instead of the silence and the solemnity demanded by the
occasion, laughter and jests arose from the crowd. It was evident
that the execution was, in the eyes of the people, only the
commencement of the Carnival. Suddenly the tumult ceased, as if by
magic, and the doors of the church opened. A brotherhood of
penitents, clothed from head to foot in robes of gray sackcloth,
with holes for the eyes, and holding in their hands lighted tapers,
appeared first; the chief marched at the head. Behind the penitents
came a man of vast stature and proportions. He was naked, with the
exception of cloth drawers at the left side of which hung a large
knife in a sheath, and he bore on his right shoulder a heavy iron
sledge-hammer. This man was the executioner. He had, moreover,
sandals bound on his feet by cords. Behind the executioner came, in
the order in which they were to die, first Peppino and then Andrea.
Each was accompanied by two priests. Neither had his eyes bandaged.
Peppino walked with a firm step, doubtless aware of what awaited
him. Andrea was supported by two priests. Each of them, from time
to time, kissed the crucifix a confessor held out to them. At this
sight alone Franz felt his legs tremble under him. He looked at
Albert — he was as white as his shirt, and mechanically cast away
his cigar, although he had not half smoked it. The count alone
seemed unmoved — nay, more, a slight color seemed striving to rise
in his pale cheeks. His nostrils dilated like those of a wild beast
that scents its prey, and his lips, half opened, disclosed histhat scents its prey, and his lips, half opened, disclosed his
white teeth, small and sharp like those of a jackal. And yet his
features wore an expression of smiling tenderness, such as Franz
had never before witnessed in them; his black eyes especially were
full of kindness and pity. However, the two culprits advanced, and
as they approached their faces became visible. Peppino was a
handsome young man of four or five and twenty, bronzed by the sun;
he carried his head erect, and seemed on the watch to see on which
side his liberator would appear. Andrea was short and fat; his
visage, marked with brutal cruelty, did not indicate age; he might
be thirty. In prison he had suffered his beard to grow; his head
fell on his shoulder, his legs bent beneath him, and his movements
were apparently automatic and unconscious.
(* Dr. Guillotin got the idea of his famous machine from
witnessing an execution in Italy.)
"I thought," said Franz to the count, "that you told me there
would be but one execution."
"I told you true," replied he coldly.
"And yet here are two culprits."
"Yes; but only one of these two is about to die; the other has
many years to live."
"If the pardon is to come, there is no time to lose."
"And see, here it is," said the count. At the moment when
Peppino reached the foot of the mandaia, a priest arrived in some
haste, forced his way through the soldiers, and, advancing to the
chief of the brotherhood, gave him a folded paper. The piercing eye
of Peppino had noticed all. The chief took the paper, unfolded it,
and, raising his hand, "Heaven be praised, and his holiness also,"
said he in a loud voice; "here is a pardon for one of the
prisoners!"
"A pardon!" cried the people with one voice — "a pardon!" At
this cry Andrea raised his head. "Pardon for whom?" cried he.
Peppino remained breathless. "A pardon for Peppino, called Rocca
Priori," said the principal friar. And he passed the paper to the
officer commanding the carbineers, who read and returned it to
him.officer commanding the carbineers, who read and returned it to
him.
"For Peppino!" cried Andrea, who seemed roused from the torpor
in which he had been plunged. "Why for him and not for me? We ought
to die together. I was promised he should die with me. You have no
right to put me to death alone. I will not die alone — I will not!"
And he broke from the priests struggling and raving like a wild
beast, and striving desperately to break the cords that bound his
hands. The executioner made a sign, and his two assistants leaped
from the scaffold and seized him. "What is going on?" asked Franz
of the count; for, as all the talk was in the Roman dialect, he had
not perfectly understood it. "Do you not see?" returned the count,
"that this human creature who is about to die is furious that his
fellow-sufferer does not perish with him? and, were he able, he
would rather tear him to pieces with his teeth and nails than let
him enjoy the life he himself is about to be deprived of. Oh, man,
man — race of crocodiles," cried 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