The Executioner

The executioner is made like us externally. But he is an extraordinary being. And it needs a special degree to bring him into existence as a member of the human family, a piat of the creative power. He arrives in a public square covered by a dense, trembling mob. A poisoner, a parricide, a man who has committed sacrilege, is tossed to him. There is no sound but that of bones cracking under the bars and the shrieks of the victim. The head hangs down, the hair stands up, and the mouth, gaping open like a furnace, emits only a few blood stained words to beg for death. His heart is beating, but it