corpses floating on the sea. Every eye and mind
turned to the little structure raised among the trees, on the space
before _La Roquette_, and there they saw a dark, shaven, disrobed young
man, going quietly toward his grave.

He mounted the steps deliberately, looking toward his feet; the priest
held up the crucifix, and he felt it was there, but did not see it; his
lips one moment touched the image of Christ, but he did not look up nor
speak; then, as he gained the last step, the _bascule_ or swingboard
sprang up before him; the executioner gave him a single push, and he
fell prone upon the plank, with his face downward; it gave way before
him, bearing him into the space between the upright beams, and he lay
horizontally beneath the knife, presenting the back of his neck to it.
Thus resting, he could look into the _pannier_ or basket, into whose
sawdust lining his head was to drop in a moment. And in that awful
space, while all the people gazed with their fingers tingling, the
legitimate Parisian executioner gave a jerk at the cord which held the
fatal knife. With a quick, keen sound, the steel became detached; it
fell hurtling through the grooves; it struck something with a dead, dumb
thump; a jet of bright blood spurted into the light, and dyed the face
of an attendant horribly red; and Couty de la Pommerais's head lay in
the sawdust of the pannier, while every vein in the lopped trunk
trickled upon the scaffold-floor! They threw a cloth upon the carcass
and carried away the pannier; the guillotine disappeared beneath the
surrounding heads; loud exclamations and acclaims burst from the
multitude; the venders of trash and edibles resumed their cheerful
cries, and a hearse dashed through the mass, carrying the warm body of
the guillotined to the cemetery of Mt. Parnasse. In thirty minutes,
newsboys were hawking the scene of the execution upon all the quays and
bridges. In every cafe of Paris some witness was telling the incidents
of the show to breathless listeners, and the crowds which stopped to see
the funeral procession of the great Marshal Pelissier divided their
attention between the warrior and the poisoner,--the latter obtaining
the preponderance of fame.

I wonder sometimes, if the ultimate penalty, however enforced, greatly
assists example, or dignifies justice. But this would involve a very
long controversy, over which many sage heads have sadly ached.

In the open daylight, when my face is shining, and my