“Well, suppose they did,” replied the Mayor, “we’d try and meet them halfway, 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 Maytime. 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 foot-way, 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.”