But there was one spot in the city--an open place by the river,
between an ancient gate and the church of the Celestins--which was
alive and busy with a strange activity of its own. It was empty
enough and the windows of its houses stared vacantly upon its
emptiness, but there were two men in possession of its tranquillity
who had been toiling hard at a singular piece of work. They were
putting the finishing touches to the erection of a tall, gaunt
gallows with its steps and platform, which occupied a space midway
between the gateway and the grey old Gothic church. In curious
contrast to the sinister grimness of the gibbet, there rose opposite
to it on the side of the church a dais, richly draped with royal
velvet, splendidly spangled with fleur-de-lis and brave with
armourial bearings.
The two men who were working at the gallows having finished their
job, came out into the open space and stretched themselves. One was
a tall, thin, grave, poplar-tree of a man, clad in sad-coloured
clothes and conspicuous for a long rosary of enormous beads which he
carried around his neck and which from time to time he handled with
ostentatious sanctimony.
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