l of them a noble
serenity. It was useless to complain. Only one rich countryman, famous
for his avarice, was whimpering desperately, saying over and over, "I do
not wish to die. . . . I do not want to die!"

Trembling and with eyes overflowing with tears, Desnoyers hid himself
behind his implacable guide. He knew them all, he had battled with them
all, and repented now of his former wrangling. The mayor had a red stain
on his forehead from a long skin wound. Upon his breast fluttered a
tattered tricolor; the municipality had placed it there that he might
receive the invaders who had torn most of it away. The priest was
holding his little round body as erect as possible, wishing to embrace
in a look of resignation the victims, the executioners, earth and
heaven. He appeared larger than usual and more imposing. His black
girdle, broken by the roughness of the soldiers, left his cassock loose
and floating. His waving, silvery hair was dripping blood, spotting with
its red drops the white clerical collar.

Upon seeing him cross the fatal field with unsteady step, because of his
obesity, a savage roar cut the tragic silence. The unarmed soldiers,
who had hastened to witness the execution, greeted the venerable old man
with shouts of laughter. "Death to the priest!" . . . The fanaticism of
the religious wars vibrated through their mockery. Almost all of them
were devout Catholics or fervent Protestants, but they believed only
in the priests of their own country. Outside of Germany, everything was
despicable--even their own religion.

The mayor and the priest changed their places in the file, seeking one
another. Each, with solemn courtesy, was offering the other the central
place in the group.

"Here, your Honor, is your place as mayor--at the head of all."

"No, after you, Monsieur le cure."

They were disputing for the last time, but in this supreme moment each
one was wishing to yield precedence to the other.

Instinctively they had clasped hands, looking straight ahead at the
firing squad, that had lowered its guns in a rigid, horizontal line.
Behind them sounded laments--"Good-bye, my children. . . . Adieu, life!
. . . I do not wish to die! . . . I do not want to die! . . ."

The two principal men felt the necessity of saying something, of closing
the page of their existence with an affirmation.

"Vive la Republique!" cried the mayor.

"Vive la France!" said the priest.

Desnoyers thought that both had said