it."

Agostino, holding his head proudly erect, but a trifle paler than usual
perhaps, seemed to be searching for some one in the crowd. When the cart
passed slowly in front of the stone cross, he caught sight of the little
boy, who had not budged from his excessively uncomfortable and wearisome
position, and a flash of joy shone in the brigand's eyes, a slight smile
parted his lips, as he made an almost imperceptible sign with his head,
and said, in a low tone, "Chiquita!"

"My son, what was that strange word you spoke?" asked the priest. "It
sounded like an outlandish woman's name. Dismiss all such subjects from
your mind, and fix your thoughts on your own hopes of salvation, for you
stand on the threshold of eternity."

"Yes, my father, I know it but too well, and though my hair is black
and my form erect, whilst you are bowed with age, and your long beard
is white as snow, you are younger now than I--every turn of the wheels,
towards that scaffold yonder, ages me by ten years."

During this brief colloquy the cart had made steady progress, and
in a moment more had stopped at the foot of the rude wooden steps
that led up to the scaffold, which Agostino ascended slowly but
unfalteringly--preceded by the assistant, supported by the priest, and
followed by the executioner. In less than a minute he was firmly bound
upon the wheel, and the executioner, having thrown off his showy scarlet
cloak, braided with white, and rolled up his sleeves, stooped to pick up
the terrible bar that lay at his feet. It was a moment of intense
horror and excitement. An anxious curiosity, largely mixed with
dread, oppressed the hearts of the spectators, who stood motionless,
breathless, with pale faces, and straining eyes fixed upon the tragic
group on the fatal scaffold. Suddenly a strange stir ran through the
crowd--the child, who was perched up on the cross, had slipped quickly
down to the ground, and gliding like a serpent through the closely
packed throng, reached the scaffold, cleared the steps at a bound, and
appeared beside the astonished executioner, who was just in the act
of raising the ponderous bar to strike, with such a wild, ghastly, yet
inspired and noble countenance--lighted up by a strength of will and
purpose that made it actually sublime--that the grim dealer of death
paused involuntarily, and withheld the murderous blow about to fall.

"Get out of my way, thou puppet!" he roared in angry tones, as he
recovered his s