Executions and executioners -- Fiction; Satire; Sex role -- Fiction
"Well, suppose they did," replied the Mayor, "we'd try and meet them
half-way, I daresay. They'd have to be executed some time or other, you
know. Why on earth are you so captious about trifles? The prisoners
won't mind, and _I_ don't mind: nobody's inconvenienced, and everybody's
happy!"
"You're right there, Mr. Mayor," put in another councilman. "This
executing business used to give the town a lot of trouble and bother;
now it's all as easy as kiss-your-hand. Instead of objecting, as they
used to do, and wanting to argue the point and kick up a row, the
fellows as is told off for execution come skipping along in the morning,
like a lot of lambs in May-time. And then the fun there is on the
scaffold! The jokes, the back answers, the repartees! And never a word
to shock a baby! Why, my little girl, as goes through the market-place
every morning--on her way to school, you know--she says to me only
yesterday, she says, 'Why, father,' she says, 'it's as good as the
play-actors,' she says."
"There again," persisted Robinet; "I object to that too. They ought to
show a properer feeling. Playing at mummers is one thing, and being
executed is another, and people ought to keep 'em separate. In my
father's time, that sort of thing wasn't thought good taste, and I don't
hold with new-fangled notions."
"Well, really, neighbour," said the Mayor, "I think you're out of sorts
yourself to-day. You must have got out of bed the wrong side this
morning. As for a little joke, more or less, we all know a maiden loves
a merry jest when she's certain of having the last word! But I'll tell
you what I'll do, if it'll please you; I'll go round and see Jeanne
myself on my way home, and tell her--quite nicely, you know--that once
in a way doesn't matter; but that if she feels her health won't let her
keep regular business hours, she mustn't think of going on with anything
that's bad for her. Like that, don't you see? And now, gentlemen, let's
read the minutes!"
Thus it came about that Jeanne took her usual walk that evening with a
ruffled brow and a swelling heart; and her little hand opened and shut
angrily as she paced the ramparts. She couldn't stand being found fault
with. How could she help having a headache? Those clods of citizens
didn't know what a highly strung sensitive organisation was. Absorbed in
her reflections, she had taken several turns up and down the grassy
footway before she became aware that she was not alone. A youth, of
richer dress and more elegant bearing than the general run of the
Radegundians, was leaning in an embrasure, watching the graceful figure
with evident interest.
"Something has vexed you, fair maiden?" he observed, coming forward
deferentially as soon as he perceived he was noticed; "and care sits but
awkwardly on that smooth young brow."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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