"God's mercy is indeed over all!" stammered the headsman.
"And if this endless mercy did not cover the earth what could defend all living beings from judgment? If the Lord were one day to proclaim: 'Let Justice prevail in the world instead of Mercy!' must not we all be instantly consumed by the divine vengeance? The Lord does not look at the outward appearance of men but at their hearts. He judges him who charitably distributes alms at the church door to make up for the secret sins that he has carefully concealed at the bottom of his heart, and raises once more the broken-hearted sinner who has fallen beneath the stress of temptation."
The headsman slowly sank down upon his knees before the chair of the unknown, and rested his folded arms against it.
"What are we after all? Impotent tools in the hands of all creative Power. Greater in the eyes of God is humble weakness than haughty strength; dearer to Him is the repentant sinner than the man who boasts of his virtues. All that is power is His gift, and His gift must needs return to Him again. Strength will turn to dust, merit will become but as an empty sound, God's mercy alone will endure for ever. Heaven is always open to him who seeks it."
The youth tenderly stroked the old man's hands whilst he tried, tremulously, to draw them away.
"Oh, sir, touch not my hands!"
The youth seized one of the executioner's hands by force and drew it towards him, looking as he did so, now at the old man's hand and now at his face. Then with his delicate index-finger he pointed at the headsman's forehead.
"I see here a whole network of wrinkles," said he, "and this cross of ill-omen here betokens the anguish of a heavy heart. Thy hand trembles in mine because it feels upon it spots of innocent blood."
"True, true!" groaned the strong man, hiding his face in his hands.
"Thou hast executed a death sentence upon a man whose innocence shortly afterwards became as clear as noonday."