l as, how to make others
suffer, in fourteen generations. As God strengthens me, I will never
carry out your sentence--do with me what you will."

"Nobly said, Justicer of the Mark!" said Otho. "I had thought of that!
But in case you should refuse to do your lawful office, it may be well
for you to remember that I have other instruments that mayhap will please
you less."

He threw open a door suddenly, and we looked into an underground hall,
where a dozen men were carousing--Duke Casimir's Hussars of Death,
black-browed, evil-faced, slack-jowled villains every man of them, cruel
and sensual. A blast of ribald oaths came sulphurously up, as if the
mouth of hell had been opened.

"Listen!" said Otho, with his hand on my shoulder.

And a jest struck to our ears concerning the prisoner, the Little
Playmate--a jest which sticks in my memory to this day. And even yet I
hope to cleave the jester through the brain, meet him when I may.

The Duke shut the door, and turned to me again. His eyes narrowed to a
thin line which glittered with hate and triumph.

"If you, Hugo Gottfried, Hereditary Executioner of the Mark, refuse to do
your duty at the time appointed upon the prisoner condemned, I, Duke
Otho, solemnly declare that I will cast your fair and tender lamb into
that den of wolves down there to work their wills upon. Hark to them!
They will have no misgivings--no qualms, no noble renunciations."

Then he turned to me airily and confidently.

"Well, my good Justicer, will you carry out the just and merciful
sentence of the law, and baptize your Red Axe with the blood of her for
whose sake you chose to insult and wound a Duke of the Mark?"

I turned away, sick at heart.

"Give me time. God's mercy--give me time!" I cried. "At least let me see
Helene. I will give you my answer to-night. But, first of all, let me see
my beloved."

"I am forgiving and most merciful," he said, smiling till his teeth
showed. "Observe, I do not even cast you into prison to make sure of you.
Go your ways" (he sat down and wrote rapidly); "here is a pass which will
enable you to visit the prisoner. At midnight I shall expect you to tell
me that to-morrow you will fulfil your office."

He handed me the paper and motioned us away.

"We are free to go?" said I, wonderingly.

"Surely," he replied, smiling. "Are you not both my friends, and can Otho
von Reuss be forgetful of old times? Come and go at your pleasure. Be
sure to be here to gi