Executions and executioners -- Fiction; Satire; Sex role -- Fiction
"Charming, is it not?" replied Jeanne. "I'm so glad you do justice to
it. Some of your predecessors have really quite vexed me by their
inability to appreciate that view. It's worth coming here to see it. And
now, to return to business for one moment,--would you prefer to give the
word yourself? Some people do; it's a mere matter of taste. Or will you
leave yourself entirely in my hands?"
"Oh, in your fair hands," replied her client, "which I beg you to
consider respectfully kissed once more by your faithful servant to
command."
Jeanne, blushing rosily, stepped back a pace, moistening her palms as
she grasped her axe, when a puffing and blowing behind caused her to
turn her head, and she perceived the Mayor hastily ascending the
scaffold.
"Hold on a minute, Jeanne, my girl," he gasped. "Don't be in a hurry.
There's been some little mistake."
Jeanne drew herself up with dignity. "I'm afraid I don't quite
understand you, Mr. Mayor," she replied in freezing accents. "There's
been no little mistake on my part that I'm aware of."
"No, no, no," said the Mayor apologetically; "but on somebody else's
there has. You see it happened in this way: this here young fellow was
going round the town last night; and he'd been dining, I should say, and
he was carrying on rather free. I will only say so much in your
presence, that he was carrying on decidedly free. So the town-guard
happened to come across him, and he was very high and very haughty, he
was, and wouldn't give his name nor yet his address--as a gentleman
should, you know, when he's been dining and carrying on free. So our
fellows just ran him in--and it took the pick of them all their time to
do it, too. Well, then, the other chap who was in prison--the gentleman
who obliged you yesterday, you know--what does he do but slip out and
run away in the middle of all the row and confusion; and very
inconsiderate and ungentlemanly it was of him to take advantage of us in
that mean way, just when we wanted a little sympathy and forbearance.
Well, the Sheriff comes this morning to fetch out his man for execution,
and he knows there's only one man to execute, and he sees there's only
one man in prison, and it all seems as simple as A B C--he never was
much of a mathematician, you know--so he fetches our friend here along,
quite gaily. And--and that's how it came about, you see; _hinc illae
lachrymae_, as the Roman poet has it. So now I shall just give this young
fellow a good talking to, and discharge him with a caution; and we
sha'n't require you any more to-day, Jeanne, my girl."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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