“Formerly,” coolly remarked Orugix, “they buried the offender alive, with the body he had outraged.”
“And now?”
“Now the punishment is milder.”
“Is milder!” said Spiagudry, scarcely daring to breathe.
“Yes,” rejoined the hangman, with the satisfied and indifferent air of an artist talking of his own art; “they brand him first, with a hot iron, with the letter S, on the calf of the leg.”
“And then?” broke in the old keeper, upon whom it would have been difficult to inflict this part of the sentence.
“Then,” said the executioner, “they merely hang him.”
“Mercy!” said Spiagudry; “hang him!”
“Well, what’s the matter with you? You look at me as the victim looks at the gallows.”
“I am glad,” said the hermit, “to see that people are growing more humane.”