Catherine de Médicis, Queen, consort of Henry II, King of France, 1519-1589 -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
Two coarse and ill-dressed serving-men obeyed the orders of a stout,
squat, vigorous man, who cast upon Christophe, as he entered, the
glance of a cannibal upon his victim; he looked him over and _estimated_
him,--measuring, like a connoisseur, the strength of his nerves, their
power and their endurance. The man was the executioner of Blois. Coming
and going, his assistants brought in a mattress, several mallets and
wooden wedges, also planks and other articles, the use of which was
not plain, nor their look comforting to the poor boy concerned in these
preparations, whose blood now curdled in his veins from a vague but most
terrible apprehension. Two personages entered the hall at the moment
when Monsieur de Montresor reappeared.
“Hey, nothing ready!” cried the provost-marshal, to whom the new-comers
bowed with great respect. “Don’t you know,” he said, addressing the
stout man and his two assistants, “that Monseigneur the cardinal thinks
you already at work? Doctor,” added the provost, turning to one of the
new-comers, “this is the man”; and he pointed to Christophe.
The doctor went straight to the prisoner, unbound his hands, and struck
him on the breast and back. Science now continued, in a serious manner,
the truculent examination of the executioner’s eye. During this time
a servant in the livery of the house of Guise brought in several
arm-chairs, a table, and writing-materials.
“Begin the _proces verbal_,” said Monsieur de Montresor, motioning
to the table the second personage, who was dressed in black, and was
evidently a clerk. Then the provost went up to Christophe, and said to
him in a very gentle way: “My friend, the chancellor, having learned
that you refuse to answer me in a satisfactory manner, decrees that you
be put to the question, ordinary and extraordinary.”
“Is he in good health, and can he bear it?” said the clerk to the
doctor.
“Yes,” replied the latter, who was one of the physicians of the house of
Lorraine.
“In that case, retire to the next room; we will send for you whenever we
require your advice.”
The physician left the hall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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