Cries of Hush and Silence are heard among the townsfolk; and the sound of a military band, playing the Dead March from Saul, is heard.  The crowd becomes quiet at once; and the sergeant and petty officers, hurrying to the back of the square, with a few whispered orders and some stealthy hustling cause it to open and admit the funeral procession, which is protected from the crowd by a double file of soldiers.  First come Burgoyne and Swindon, who, on entering the square, glance with distaste at the gallows, and avoid passing under it by wheeling a little to the right and stationing themselves on that side.  Then Mr. Brudenell, the chaplain, in his surplice, with his prayer book open in his hand, walking beside Richard, who is moody and disorderly.  He walks doggedly through the gallows framework, and posts himself a little in front of it.  Behind him comes the executioner, a stalwart soldier in his shirtsleeves.  Following him, two soldiers haul a light military waggon.  Finally comes the band, which posts itself at the back of the square, and finishes the Dead March.  Judith, watching Richard painfully, steals down to the gallows, and stands leaning against its right post.  During the conversation which follows, the two soldiers place the cart under the gallows, and stand by the shafts, which point backwards.  The executioner takes a set of steps from the cart and places it ready for the prisoner to mount.  Then he climbs the tall ladder which stands against the gallows, and cuts the string by which the rope is hitched up; so that the noose drops dangling over the cart, into which he steps as he descends.

Richard (with suppressed impatience, to Brudenell).  Look here, sir:  this is no place for a man of your profession.  Hadn’t you better go away?

Swindon.  I appeal to you, prisoner, if you have any sense of decency left, to listen to the ministrations of the chaplain, and pay due heed to the solemnity of the occasion.

The chaplain (gently reproving Richard).  Try to control yourself, and submit to the divine will. (He lifts his book to proceed with the service.)

Richard.  Answer for your own will, sir, and those of your accomplices here (indicating Burgoyne and Swindon):  I see little divinity about them or you.  You talk to me of Christianity when you are in the act of hanging your enemies.  Was there ever such blasphemous nonsense! (To Swindon, more rudely) You’ve got up the solemnity of the occasion, as you call it, to impress the people with your own dignity—­Handel’s music and a clergyman to make murder look like piety!  Do you suppose I am going to help you?  You’ve asked me to choose the rope because you don’t know your own trade well enough to shoot me properly.  Well, hang away and have done with it.

Swindon (to the chaplain).  Can you do nothing with him, Mr. Brudenell?

Chaplain.  I will try, sir. (Beginning to read) Man that is born of woman hath—­