Penny Blood Serial Cover — page 118: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

110 ALFRED DE ROSANN. passions. But it is not my object to descant on this head: One amongst you must supply the place of him who is wanting: the ends of justice cannot be de- feated by the petty evasions of a coward.. Who, then, is hardy enough to volunteer? And as the office of executioner is rendered by man’s enormities a neces- sary one in the world, there has been a remuneration attached to it. In the present case, he that offers him- self, shall be exempt from all labour during the remain- der of his sojourn within these walls, shall dwell apart from the rest, and. shall receive a certain sum for the performance of the functions of his office this day !’’ | A cold sweat stood upon De Rosann’s brow at the termination of this speech, which, despite of the tre- mulous tone in which it was delivered, appeared cold- blooded and expressive of a horrible greediness for human gore. but its purport necessarily gave it this savage appearance; in reality it was as mild as the subject would allow. An awful silence succeeded its delivery: the Governor gazed upon the multitude be- fore him; and his heart entertained a hope that his words were futile. In that case Francois would be remanded to his dungeon; a due report would be made to the proper quarters; and the royal mercy was cer- tain not to be demanded in vain. Scareely a breath was drawn—the serried ranks of soldiers were as still as death—the convicts awaited the result in motionless anxiety; the sentries forbore to vary the silence with the noise of their paces to and . fro on their respective posts—and the very breeze ap- peared to lull itself in unison with the rest. The priests muttered. not a sound—the old man ventured to raise his head for an instant, and lift up his eyes to heaven to express his last hope. His lips moved—a minute had passed since the concluding syllables of the Governor’s address were uttered and were dissi- pated in the air. A minute, at such a time and on such an occasion, was an age: suspense makes years of moments, centuries of hours. But no reply suc- CONIC OOO)<S.CO)