The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (3.1894)

The Headswoman

By Kenneth Grahame

I
1 r was a bland sunny morning of a mediaeval May—an old-styie
i May of the most typicai quality ; and the Council of the little
town of St. Radegonde were assembled, as was their wont at that
hour, in the picturesque upper chamber of the Hotel de Ville, for
the dispatch of the usual municipal business. Though the date was
early sixteenth century, the members of this particular town-
council possessed some resemblance to those of similar assemblies
in the seventeenth, eighteenth, and even the nineteenth centuries,
in a general absence of any characteristic at all—unless a pervading
hopeless insignificance can be considered as such. All the character,
indeed, in the room seemed to be concentrated in the girl who
stood before the table, erect, yet at her ease, facing the members in
general and Mr. Mayor in particular ; a delicate-handed, handsome
girl of some eighteen summers, whose tall, supple figure was well set
off by the quiet, though tasteful mourning in which she was clad.
"Well, gentlemen," the Mayor was saying ; "this little business
appears to be—er—quite in order, and it only remains for me to—
er—review the facts. You are aware that the town has lately had
the misfortune to lose its executioner—a gentleman who, I may
say,