point, mumbled simply, "Shut your mouth," and he drove his fist into Alexandre's jaw. Alexandre doubled over, groaning and spitting. Then the man pulled a handkerchief from his front jacket pocket and gagged Alexandre tightly. Then the man with boils pointed a finger at Danielle. "Stay here, wench. We've no patience for your whining!"
They dragged Alexandre from the Little Farm and around the north side of the huge brick building. Danielle ran after, staying back so they would not see her.
They did not notice her as she scurried through the stone archway into one of the smaller courtyards within the confines of the hospital. No one spied her as she crouched behind a two-wheeled cart in the shadows and stared, horrified, at the tall contraption erected on the barren centre ground. The three men who held Alexandre drove him to his knees to watch the preliminary beheadings. First, a sheep was locked into the neck brace, and with a swift movement the blade was dropped from the top of the wooden tower and severed the head. It flopped into a basket. From windows in the upper stories of the hospital came whoops and shouts of the prisoners. Some banged and screamed.
"Better," said the man at the control to the small gathering of witnesses - finely dressed men in hats, ruffled shirts, and heeled, buckled shoes, standing with feet planted apart and hands clasped behind their backs. "The angle of the blade, you see, makes for a cleaner cut." Heads nodded. Genteel faces, concerned with the civility of it all, clearly pleased to be part of the advancement.
Two corpses were beheaded then. One a fat, naked man with wiry yellow hair, the other a muscular cadaver with only one foot. The already lifeless heads popped from the lifeless necks and, spewing not a drop of blood, dropped into the wicker basket.
"What have we here?" The man at the control turned to where Alexandre was held to the ground. "Who is that there? We're not using it for executions yet. We've got no papers for that man. The first is selected already, a Nicolas-Jacques Pelletier. As soon as the machine is perfected, he shall die."
Blue Eyes said simply, "Just one more test subject, sir. At the request of one of the officials here at Bicetre." He nodded towards a second-storey window, where the visage of LeBeque could be seen, his head wrapped in a bandage, his arms crossed furiously.
"We've got no papers," repeated the man at the control.
"Who's to care? Who’s to know?" asked Blue Eyes. "He's a dangerous maniac who's been housed at Bicetre for years. He nearly killed the official in the window there. He'd kill you or me were we to unbind him. Who's to know, but you, these witnesses and a few babbling idiots in the windows above."
The man looked at Alexandre, then at the blade which he'd just raised back into position.
"A live one will tell you more of what you need to know," said Blue Eyes. "And then he'll merely be a third corpse."
Alexandre tried to scream around the gag, but only garglings came out. Danielle put her hands over her ears, but could not take her gaze from the dreadful sights.
"Well," said the man, whirling his hand impatiently and pursing his lips as though he had his doubts, though the temptation of a live subject was too much to pass. "All right. Quick, then. This should be our final test."
And they made quick business of Alexandre Demanche. The man was bound at the ankles and placed with much huffing and grunting upon the wooden gurney. His head was slipped through the neck trough, and then secured when the wooden slat above was brought down and locked. Alexandre, still in his gag, strained to look around as the man in charge reached out to release the heavy blade.
He spied Danielle trembling in the shade behind the wagon. His expression screamed what he had spoken back in the barn, though the words did nothing but confuse the already terrified mind of his young lover.
Why again? Why again? Forgive me, and no more!
The blade slid smoothly,
They dragged Alexandre from the Little Farm and around the north side of the huge brick building. Danielle ran after, staying back so they would not see her.
They did not notice her as she scurried through the stone archway into one of the smaller courtyards within the confines of the hospital. No one spied her as she crouched behind a two-wheeled cart in the shadows and stared, horrified, at the tall contraption erected on the barren centre ground. The three men who held Alexandre drove him to his knees to watch the preliminary beheadings. First, a sheep was locked into the neck brace, and with a swift movement the blade was dropped from the top of the wooden tower and severed the head. It flopped into a basket. From windows in the upper stories of the hospital came whoops and shouts of the prisoners. Some banged and screamed.
"Better," said the man at the control to the small gathering of witnesses - finely dressed men in hats, ruffled shirts, and heeled, buckled shoes, standing with feet planted apart and hands clasped behind their backs. "The angle of the blade, you see, makes for a cleaner cut." Heads nodded. Genteel faces, concerned with the civility of it all, clearly pleased to be part of the advancement.
Two corpses were beheaded then. One a fat, naked man with wiry yellow hair, the other a muscular cadaver with only one foot. The already lifeless heads popped from the lifeless necks and, spewing not a drop of blood, dropped into the wicker basket.
"What have we here?" The man at the control turned to where Alexandre was held to the ground. "Who is that there? We're not using it for executions yet. We've got no papers for that man. The first is selected already, a Nicolas-Jacques Pelletier. As soon as the machine is perfected, he shall die."
Blue Eyes said simply, "Just one more test subject, sir. At the request of one of the officials here at Bicetre." He nodded towards a second-storey window, where the visage of LeBeque could be seen, his head wrapped in a bandage, his arms crossed furiously.
"We've got no papers," repeated the man at the control.
"Who's to care? Who’s to know?" asked Blue Eyes. "He's a dangerous maniac who's been housed at Bicetre for years. He nearly killed the official in the window there. He'd kill you or me were we to unbind him. Who's to know, but you, these witnesses and a few babbling idiots in the windows above."
The man looked at Alexandre, then at the blade which he'd just raised back into position.
"A live one will tell you more of what you need to know," said Blue Eyes. "And then he'll merely be a third corpse."
Alexandre tried to scream around the gag, but only garglings came out. Danielle put her hands over her ears, but could not take her gaze from the dreadful sights.
"Well," said the man, whirling his hand impatiently and pursing his lips as though he had his doubts, though the temptation of a live subject was too much to pass. "All right. Quick, then. This should be our final test."
And they made quick business of Alexandre Demanche. The man was bound at the ankles and placed with much huffing and grunting upon the wooden gurney. His head was slipped through the neck trough, and then secured when the wooden slat above was brought down and locked. Alexandre, still in his gag, strained to look around as the man in charge reached out to release the heavy blade.
He spied Danielle trembling in the shade behind the wagon. His expression screamed what he had spoken back in the barn, though the words did nothing but confuse the already terrified mind of his young lover.
Why again? Why again? Forgive me, and no more!
The blade slid smoothly,
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