Story 1--Chapter VII.
The Body Taken Down.
The glade is silent as a graveyard, with a tableau in it far more terribly solemn than tombs. A fire smoulders unheeded in its centre, and near it the carcass of some huge creature, upon which the black vultures, soaring aloft, have fixed their eager eyes.
And they glance too at something upon the trees. There is a broad black skin suspended over a branch; but there is more upon another branch—there is a man!
But for the motions lately made by him the birds would ere this have descended to their banquet.
They may come down now. He makes no more motions, utters no cry to keep them in the air affrighted. He hangs still, silent, apparently dead. Even the scream of a young girl rushing out from the underwood does not stir him, nor yet the shout of an old man sent forth under like excitement.
Not any more when they are close to the spot with arms almost touching him—arms upraised and voices loud in lamentation.
“It is Pierre! Oh, father, they have hanged him! Dead—he is dead!”