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nowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation
from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their
handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more ex-
citable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley
of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia,
hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the
delegate of the land of song (a high double F recalling those
piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani
beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers) was easily dis-
tinguishable. It was exactly seventeen o’clock. The signal
for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in
an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore’s patri-
archal sombrero, which has been in the possession of his
family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his
medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. The learned prel-
ate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to
the hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt
in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock
above his hoary head, and offered up to the throne of grace
fervent prayers of supplication. Hand by the block stood the
grim figure of the executioner, his visage being concealed
in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures
through which his eyes glowered furiously. As he awaited
the fatal signal he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by
honing it upon his brawny forearm or decapitated in rap-
id succession a flock of sheep which had been provided by
the admirers of his fell but necessary office. On a handsome
mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quar-
tering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling