fer every ill that God might send him in order to prove the
steadfastness of his faith.

And indeed he endured his torture with such firmness, that M. de
Baville, who was present in the hope of obtaining a confession, became
more impatient than the sufferer, and, forgetting his sacred office, the
judge struck and insulted the prisoner. Upon this Baeton raised his eyes
to heaven and cried, "Lord, Lord! how long shall the wicked triumph?
How long shall innocent blood be shed? How long wilt Thou not judge and
avenge our blood with cries to Thee? Remember Thy jealousy, O Lord, and
Thy loving-kindness of old!" Then M. de Baville withdrew, giving orders
that he was to be brought to the scaffold.

The scaffold was erected on the Esplanade: being, as was usual when this
sort of death was to be inflicted, a wooden platform five or six feet
high, on which was fastened flat a St. Andrew's cross, formed of two
beams of wood in the form of an X. In each of the four arms two square
pieces were cut out to about half the depth of the beam, and about
a foot apart, so that when the victim was bound on the cross the
outstretched limbs were easy to break by a blow at these points,
having no support beneath. Lastly, near the cross, at one corner of
the scaffold an upright wooden post was fixed, on which was fastened
horizontally a small carriage wheel, as on a pivot, the projecting part
of the nave being sawn off to make it flat. On this bed of pain the
sufferer was laid, so that the spectators might enjoy the sight of his
dying convulsions when, the executioner having accomplished his part,
the turn of death arrived.

Boeton was carried to execution in a cart, and drums were beaten that
his exhortations might not be heard. But above the roll of drums his
voice rose unfalteringly, as he admonished his brethren to uphold their
fellowship in Christ.

Half-way to the Esplanade a friend of the condemned man, who happened
to be in the street, met the procession, and fearing that he could not
support the sight, he took refuge in a shop. When Boeton was opposite
the door, he stopped the cart and asked permission of the provost to
speak to his friend. The request being granted, he called him out, and
as he approached, bathed in tears, Boeton said, "Why do you run away
from me? Is it because you see me covered with the tokens of Jesus
Christ? Why do you weep because He has graciously called me to Himself,
and all unworthy though I be, permits me