"To-morrow!" he exclaimed, after a short pause—"Father, to-morrow destroys my last hope of a future happier than the past. To-morrow I must dip my hands in the blood of a fellow-creature. To-morrow is the first day of a life of agony. Thenceforward I am a hired murderer!"
"My son!" said the old headsman anxiously but firmly, "what must be must, and against destiny 'tis vain to strive. It were sin to deceive you. Be prepared for a joyless and weary existence. But there is a God above, who takes account of human suffering, to repay it in His own good time."
Gerard heard but the bitter portion of his father's speech—the concluding words of comfort escaped his ear. He replied as if he had heard nothing.
"I can conceive," he said, "my fellow-citizens' hatred of me. May I not be called upon, any day and every day, to strike off the head of one of them, and he perhaps innocent? They think the headsman takes pleasure in bloodshed, that he gloats over his victim; and yet, if he shrinks at sight of the sufferer's naked throat, if his trembling hands refuse to wield the sword, then, indeed, they slay him with stones, because he is no true headsman, but suffers himself to be touched by pity!"
"Often, my son, has this inexplicable contradiction struck me."
"Methinks, father, 'tis not hard to interpret. In every society of men a scapegoat is needed, on whom to pour out the superabundant hate and malice of the human heart, to serve as a ready butt for the brutal, a safe laughingstock for cowards. But, father!—is there no possible outlet, no means of escape, unthought of or untried? Is my fate inevitable—must I steep myself in blood?"
"My son!" said the headsman, "there is no remedy. See yonder book, left me by the judge. It is open at the page that seals thy doom."
Gerard read; then dashed the book violently to the ground.
"Accursed be the unjust law," he cried, "that sentenced me, whilst yet in my mother's womb, to a life of infamy and blood! Thrice accursed, I say, be the law and its makers! What! whilst I lay in my cradle, smiling at life and at God's glorious works, in happy ignorance of the future, men had already doomed me to live loathed and detested of all, like the venomous reptile against which every hand is lifted? Oh, shame, shame!"
"Despair carries you too far, Gerard," replied his father, with a sigh. "I appreciate your sufferings—too long have I endured the like; but, remember that the headsman's is a necessary office, and must be filled. God has allotted it to thee, and submission to His will is the Christian's duty. In resignation and humility wilt thou find peace."