stood over the brows bent by so much hard thought.—­Worn out by want of sleep, I dozed from five till half-past seven, and I had to be here by half-past eight to warrant an execution.  Take my word for it, Monsieur Camusot, when a judge has been toiling all night in such gulfs of sorrow, feeling the heavy hand of God on all human concerns, and heaviest on noble souls, it is hard to sit down here, in front of a desk, and say in cold blood, ’Cut off a head at four o’clock!  Destroy one of God’s creatures full of life, health, and strength!’—­And yet this is my duty!  Sunk in grief myself, I must order the scaffold——­

“The condemned wretch cannot know that his judge suffers anguish equal to his own.  At this moment he and I, linked by a sheet of paper—­I, society avenging itself; he, the crime to be avenged—­embody the same duty seen from two sides; we are two lives joined for the moment by the sword of the law.

“Who pities the judge’s deep sorrow?  Who can soothe it?  Our glory is to bury it in the depth of our heart.  The priest with his life given to God, the soldier with a thousand deaths for his country’s sake, seem to me far happier than the magistrate with his doubts and fears and appalling responsibility.

“You know who the condemned man is?” Monsieur de Granville went on.  “A young man of seven-and-twenty—­as handsome as he who killed himself yesterday, and as fair; condemned against all our anticipations, for the only proof against him was his concealment of the stolen goods.  Though sentenced, the lad will confess nothing!  For seventy days he has held out against every test, constantly declaring that he is innocent.  For two months I have felt two heads on my shoulders!  I would give a year of my life if he would confess, for juries need encouragement; and imagine what a blow it would be to justice if some day it should be discovered that the crime for which he is punished was committed by another.

“In Paris everything is so terribly important; the most trivial incidents in the law courts have political consequences.

“The jury, an institution regarded by the legislators of the Revolution as a source of strength, is, in fact, an instrument of social ruin, for it fails in action; it does not sufficiently protect society.  The jury trifles with its functions.  The class of jurymen is divided into two parties, one averse to capital punishment; the result is a total upheaval of true equality in administration of the law.  Parricide, a most horrible crime, is in some departments treated with leniency, while in others a common murder, so to speak, is punished with death. [There are in penal servitude twenty-three parricides who have been allowed the benefit of extenuating circumstances.] And what would happen if here in Paris, in our home district, an innocent man should be executed!”

“He is an escaped convict,” said Monsieur Camusot, diffidently.

“The Opposition and the Press would make him a paschal lamb!” cried Monsieur de Granville; “and the Opposition would enjoy white-washing him, for he is a fanatical Corsican, full of his native notions, and his murders were a Vendetta.  In that island you may kill your enemy, and think yourself, and be thought, a very good man.