And I who stood there with the axe in my hand seemed to have a thousand years to think all these things, and even to mark the lace upon her dress.  I saw her come nearer and nearer to me.  Yet feeling was dead within me.  I seemed to sleep and wake and sleep again.  And when at last I awoke, there came a strange feeling to me.  It was my wedding-day, and my bride was coming to me, lily pure, clad in whiteness.

Then at the foot of the scaffold there came one forth from the ranks, a captain of the Duke’s guard, and with honor and respect offered Helene his arm.

She declined it with a proud smile, and all that were near could hear her clear voice say, “I thank you, sir, but I need no help.  I am strong enough to walk thus far.”

And she mounted the steps of the scaffold as though they had been those of the grand staircase at Plassenburg.

But when she saw me, standing in my habit of red from head to heel, she seemed a little taken aback.  Quickly, however, she came forward and took me by the hand, looking up at me with the love-light making her eyes glorious.

“Hugo,” she said, “I am glad you are here—­glad that I am to die by no less loving hand.  That will be sweeter than to live with any other.  And, indeed, I deserve so much, for I have not known much joy in my life, save in the old days when I was your Little Playmate.”

Then there came a stern voice from the enclosure: 

"Executioner of the Mark, do your duty!"

It was the voice of Master Gerard.

And then I looked over and saw Gerard von Sturm standing a little in front, with his daughter’s wrist held tightly in his hand as though he would drag her back.  With that a loathing came over me, for I said within me, “Is the woman so anxious for the blood of the innocent whom she has hounded to death that she would intrude on the scaffold itself?”

Then I remembered the duty of the Justicers, ere the sentence was carried out, to recite the crimes of the condemned.

So I cried aloud, even as I had heard my father do.

“The crimes of Helene, Princess of Plassenburg, sole daughter of Dietrich, lately Prince thereof—­guilty of no evil, save that she has been the savior of this people of Thorn and their deliverer in time of pestilence!”

The people hushed themselves with astonishment at my words.  And then a cry went up.

“The Red Axe speaks true—­she is innocent—­innocent!”

But the voice of Gerard von Sturm came again, stern as that of the recording angel: 

“Executioner of the Wolfmark, do your duty!”

Scarce knowing what I did, I went on with my formal accusation.

“Helene, Princess of Plassenburg, who is about to die, is also guilty of loving me, Hugo Gottfried, son of Gottfried Gottfried, and of none other crime.  For this the Duke has decreed that she should die.  It is her own will that she should die by my hand.”