y unoffending child; sorrow for him who had forgotten his
faith; and sorrow for them who have been at the root of this bitter
wrong," was the answer.

"This man has been accustomed to hear forgiveness preached to the
criminal, and he turns his schooling to good account," whispered the wary
judge to those near him. "We must try his guilt by other means. He may be
readier in reply than steady in his nerves."

Signing to the assistants, the Valaisan now quietly awaited the effect of
a new experiment. The pall was removed, and the body of Jacques Colis
exposed. He was seated as in life, on the table in front of the grand
altar.

"The innocent have no dread of those whose spirits have deserted the
flesh," continued the chatelain, "but God often sorely pricks the
consciences of the guilty, when they are made to see the works of their
own cruel hands. Approach and look upon the dead, Balthazar; thou and thy
wife, that we may judge of the manner in which ye face the murdered and
wronged man."

A more fruitless experiment could not well have been attempted with one of
the headsman's office; for long familiarity with such sights had taken off
that edge of horror which the less accustomed would be apt to feel.
Whether it were owing to this circumstance, or to his innocence, Balthazar
walked to the side of the body unshaken, and stood long regarding the
bloodless features with unmoved tranquillity. His habits were quiet and
meek, and little given to display. The feelings which crowded his mind,
therefore, did not escape him in words, though a gleam of something like
regret crossed his face. Not so with his companion. Marguerite took the
hand of the dead man, and hot tears began to follow each other down her
cheeks, as she gazed at his shrunken and altered lineaments.

"Poor Jacques Colis!" she said in a manner to be heard by all present;
"thou hadst thy faults, like all born of woman; but thou didst not merit
this! Little did the mother that bore thee, and who lived in thy infant
smile--she who fondled thee on her knee, and cherished thee in her bosom,
foresee thy fearful and sudden end! It was happy for her that she never
knew the fruit of all her love, and pains, and care, else bitterly would
she have mourned over what was then her joy, and in sorrow would she have
witnessed thy pleasantest smile. We live in a fearful world, Balthazar; a
world in which the wicked triumph! Thy hand, that would not willingly harm
the meanest c