Jacques clenched his great fists. No, he wouldn't do it. Seniority entitled him to some consideration. If necessary, he'd put a call through to the Bureau. They'd understand. His record was good. He'd always performed faithfully, meeting death every session, dealing it out to young and old alike. But not to a woman; certainly not to a woman who might have meant a great deal to him! During the long spartan years of his training, the isolated years of monastic living at a time when youth burned strongest in him, the image of woman had become a haunting dream, unreal as the moonlight streaming through his curtainless window, untouchable as the mist of a summer morning. A sense of that image and unreality still persisted, even after all the women who had come to him so willingly and had left with that undefinable look of unhappiness deep in their eyes. Since that woman back in the Fifth District, he'd been lucky with his executions. Not too many women drew the death penalty, and the few times women had been on his docket he had learned of it sufficiently in advance to pretend illness or make up some plausible excuse for emergency leave. But today had taken him totally by surprise. The squire shuffled up behind him, and begged, "Please, your Lordship, shall we not don these garments now?" Jacques shook his head so impatiently that the squire scurried back in fright. And then the Bailiff's voice intoned sonorously from the doorway: "His Highness, Chief Justice of the Seventh Judicial District!" Jacques turned in time to see the Bailiff bow low. The Chief Justice entered with a swish of ceremonial robes. He was followed by a tall, thin man, dressed in knightly costume. The Bailiff made a second bow, and spoke again: "His Excellency, Sir Mallory, representing the Federal Bureau of Internal Tranquility!" Jacques felt suddenly relieved. It was good to have someone from his own Bureau here. These judges were too cold, too impersonal. The Chief Justice was carrying his wig, which was not yet fully powdered. His heavy jowls quivered with indignation. "What's this nonsense, Sir Jacques?" he demanded imperiously. "Court is ready to convene--We have no time to get another executioner!" "I'm sorry, your Highness, but I must ask your indulgence this one time." "Impossible!" Sir Mallory stepped forward and smiled in a conciliatory manner. "Perhaps Sir Jacques does not understand all the circumstances," he said soothingly. "You see, Sir Jacques, this execution is very important to FBIT. There hasn't been a first-rate execution in nearly three years, and this is the only release we've had to offer the public in all that time. Of course, the Court still must decide in its own wisdom whether there are any grounds for setting aside the verdict, but we would not want any of our Bureau personnel to be responsible for disappointing the public." "I've always done my duty," Jacques protested. "But this one time--"