d reproaches of the officers, staring in dull horror at the man
whom they had killed and who somehow was not dead.

The Governor shook his fist in their faces, savagely shouting to them
to stand in position, to present arms, to make haste and get the thing
over. He had become as thoroughly demoralized as they were, and dared
not look at the terrible figure that stood, and stood, and would not
fall. When the Gadfly spoke to him he started and shuddered at the sound
of the mocking voice.

"You have brought out the awkward squad this morning, colonel! Let me
see if I can manage them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher there,
you to the left. Bless your heart, man, it's a carbine you've got
in your hand, not a frying-pan! Are you all straight? Now then!
Ready--present----"

"Fire!" the colonel interrupted, starting forward. It was intolerable
that this man should give the command for his own death.

There was another confused, disorganized volley, and the line broke up
into a knot of shivering figures, staring before them with wild eyes.
One of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine; he had flung it
away, and crouched down, moaning under his breath: "I can't--I can't!"

The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into the glimmer of the early
sunlight; and they saw that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he
was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers and officials stood
as if they had been turned to stone, and watched the ghastly thing that
writhed and struggled on the ground; then both doctor and colonel rushed
forward with a cry, for he had dragged himself up on one knee and was
still facing the soldiers, and still laughing.

"Another miss! Try--again, lads--see--if you can't----"

He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass.

"Is he dead?" the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor,
kneeling down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:

"I think so--God be praised!"

"God be praised!" the colonel repeated. "At last!"

His nephew was touching him on the arm.

"Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in."

"What? He can't come in--I won't have it! What are the guards about?
Your Eminence----"

The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli was standing in the
courtyard, looking before him with still and awful eyes.

"Your Eminence! I must beg of you--this is not a fit sight for you! The
execution is only just over; the body is not y