The general and sudden surprise, accompanied as it was by a common movement of aversion, induced the Signor Grimaldi to demand the reason.

“Thy name is not in much favour apparently, Herr Mueller, or Herr Balthazar, whichever it is thy pleasure to be called,” observed the Genoese, casting a quick glance around the circle.  “There is some mystery in it, that to me needs explanation.”

“Signore, I am the headsman of Berne.”

Though long schooled in the polished habits of his high condition, which taught him ordinarily to repress strong emotions, the Signor Grimaldi could not conceal the start which this unexpected announcement produced, for he had not escaped the usual prejudices of men.

“Truly, we have been fortunate in our associate, Melchior,” he said drily, turning without ceremony from the man whose modest, quiet mien had lately interested him so much, but whose manner he now took to be assumed,—­few pausing to investigate the motives of those who are condemned of opinion:—­“here has been much excellent and useful morality thrown away upon a very unworthy subject!”

The baron received the intelligence of the real name of their travelling companion with less feeling.  He had been greatly puzzled to account for the singular language he had heard, and he found relief in so brief a solution of the difficulty.

“The pretended name, after all, then, is only a cloak to conceal the truth!  I knew the Muellers of the Emmen Thal so well, that I had great difficulty in fitting the character which the honest man gave of himself fairly upon any one of them all.  But it is now clear enough, and doubtless Balthazar has no great reason to be proud of the turn which Fortune has played his family in making them executioners.”

“Is the office hereditary?” demanded the Genoese, quickly.

“It is.  Thou knowest that we of Berne have great respect for ancient usages.  He that is born to the Buergerschaft will die in the exercise of his rights, and he that is born out of its venerable pale must be satisfied to live out of it, unless he has gold or favor.  Our institutions are a hint from nature, which leaves men as they are created, preserving the order and harmony of society by venerable and well-defined laws, as is wise and necessary.  In nature, he that is born strong remains strong, and he that has little force must be content with his feebleness.”

The Signor Grimaldi looked like one who felt contrition.

“Art thou, in truth, an hereditary executioner?” he asked, addressing Balthazar himself.

“Signore, I am:  else would hand of mine have never taken life.  ’Tis a hard duty to perform, even under the obligations and penalties of the law;—­otherwise, it were accursed!”

“Thy fathers deemed it a privilege!”

“We suffer for their error:  Signore, the sins of the fathers, in our case, have indeed been visited on the children to the latest generations.”