EL VERDUGO

BY

HONORE DE BALZAC



Translated by
Katharine Prescott Wormeley




DEDICATION

To Martinez de la Rosa.




EL VERDUGO

The clock of the little town of Menda had just struck midnight. At
that moment a young French officer, leaning on the parapet of a long
terrace which bordered the gardens of the chateau de Menda, seemed
buried in thoughts that were deeper than comported with the
light-hearted carelessness of military life; though it must be said
that never were hour, scene, or night more propitious for meditation.
The beautiful sky of Spain spread its dome of azure above his head.