Pausing a little, he fixed a keenly searching look upon the shrinking youth, and then whispered in his ear—“Young man! you have a murder on your conscience!”
For a moment the apprehensions of Florian yielded to a lofty sense of indignation at this groundless charge. “It is false, old man!” he exclaimed with energy. “I swear by the just God who searches all hearts, that I am not conscious of any crime.”
“I shall rejoice to learn that I am mistaken,” replied the old man, with evident gratification, as again he fixed his searching orbs upon the indignant Florian. “If you are innocent, it will be all the better for both of us; but,” he continued, after a hasty look around him, “the danger I alluded to still hangs over your head. I trust, however, that with God’s help I shall be able to shield you from it.”
Florian, too much alarmed to reply, looked at him doubtingly. “I will deal candidly with you,” resumed the old man, after a pause of reflection. “When you rode by my house this evening”——
“Who and what are you?” exclaimed Florian, in new astonishment.
“Have a little patience, young man!” replied the stranger, while his iron features relaxed into a good-natured smile. “Do you recollect the tall archway under an old house where a toll of half a sous was demanded from you? That house is mine; and I was sitting by the window as you threw an alms into the box for the condemned criminals. Had you then looked upward, you would have seen a naked sword and a bright axe suspended over your head.”
At these words Florian shuddered, and involuntarily retreated some paces from his companion. “I see by your flinching,” sternly resumed the old man, “that you guess who is before you. You are right, young man! I am the town executioner, but an honest man withal, and well inclined to render you essential service. Now, mark me! When you stopped beneath the broad blade, it quivered, and jarred against the axe. Whoever is thus greeted by the headsman’s sword is inevitably doomed to come in contact with it. I heard the boding jar, which every executioner in France well knows how to interpret, and I immediately determined to follow and to warn you.”
The unhappy youth, who had listened in disheartening emotion to this strange communication, now yielded to a sense of ungovernable terror. Covering with both his hands his pallid face, he exclaimed, in nameless agony—“O God! in thy infinite mercy, save me!”
“Hah!” ejaculated the headsman sternly, “have I then roused your sleeping conscience? However, whether you conclude to open or to shut your heart, is now immaterial. In either case, I will never betray you—for accusation and judgment belong not to my office. Profit, therefore, as you best may, by my well-intended warning. Alas! alas!” he muttered between his closed teeth, “that one so young should dip his hands in blood!”