“And yet thou hast not been slow to confess thy connexion with a race of executioners!—­They who are accustomed to see their fellows die might have less warmth in meeting a plain inquiry of justice!”

“Herr Chatelain, thy meaning is understood.  We have been weighed upon heavily by Providence, but, until now, they whom we have been made to serve have had the policy to treat us with fair words!  Thou hast spoken of blood; that which has been shed by Balthazar, by his, and by mine, lies on the consciences of those who commanded it to be spilt.  The unwilling instruments of thy justice are innocent before God.”

“This is strange language for people of thy employment!  Dost thou, too, Balthazar, speak and think with thy consort in this matter?”

“Nature has given us men sterner feelings, mein Herr.  I was born to the office I hold, taught to believe it right, if not honorable, and I have struggled hard to do its duties without murmuring.  The case is different with poor Marguerite.  She is a mother, and lives in her children; she has seen one that is near her heart publicly scorned, and she feels like a mother.”

“And thou, who art a father, what has been thy manner of thinking under this insult?”

Balthazar was meek by nature, and, as he had just said, he had been trained to the exercise of his functions; but he was capable of profound affections.  The question touched him in a sensitive spot, and he writhed under his feelings; but, accustomed to command himself before the public eye, and alive to the pride of manhood, his mighty effort to suppress the agony that loaded his heart was rewarded with success.

“Sorrow for my unoffending child; sorrow for him who had forgotten his faith; and sorrow for them who have been at the root of this bitter wrong,” was the answer.

“This man has been accustomed to hear forgiveness preached to the criminal, and he turns his schooling to good account,” whispered the wary judge to those near him.  “We must try his guilt by other means.  He may be readier in reply than steady in his nerves.”

Signing to the assistants, the Valaisan now quietly awaited the effect of a new experiment.  The pall was removed, and the body of Jacques Colis exposed.  He was seated as in life, on the table in front of the grand altar.

“The innocent have no dread of those whose spirits have deserted the flesh,” continued the chatelain, “but God often sorely pricks the consciences of the guilty, when they are made to see the works of their own cruel hands.  Approach and look upon the dead, Balthazar; thou and thy wife, that we may judge of the manner in which ye face the murdered and wronged man.”