He immediately kneeled down, below the knife. His neck fitting
into a hole, made for the purpose, in a cross plank, was shut down,
by another plank above; exactly like the pillory. Immediately
below him was a leathern bag. And into it his head rolled
instantly.
The executioner was holding it by the hair, and walking with it
round the scaffold, showing it to the people, before one quite knew
that the knife had fallen heavily, and with a rattling sound.
When it had travelled round the four sides of the scaffold, it was
set upon a pole in front--a little patch of black and white, for
the long street to stare at, and the flies to settle on. The eyes
were turned upward, as if he had avoided the sight of the leathern
bag, and looked to the crucifix. Every tinge and hue of life had
left it in that instant. It was dull, cold, livid, wax. The body
also.
There was a great deal of blood. When we left the window, and went
close up to the scaffold, it was very dirty; one of the two men who
were throwing water over it, turning to help the other lift the
body into a shell, picked his way as through mire.
