THE EXECUTION.


The surprised lapidary rose and opened the door. Two men entered the
garret. One of them was tall and thin, with a face mean and pimpled,
surrounded by thick, grayish whiskers; he held in his hand a stout
loaded cane, and wore a shapeless hat and a large green greatcoat,
covered with mud, and buttoned close up to the neck; the black velvet
collar, much worn, exposed to view his long, bare, red throat, which
resembled a vulture's. This man was one Malicorne. The other was short
and thick-set, his countenance equally mean, and his hair red. He was
dressed with an attempt at finery, quite ridiculous. Bright studs
fastened the front of his shirt, whose cleanliness was more than
doubtful; a long gold chain, passed across his second-hand plaid stuff
waistcoat, was left to view by a velveteen jacket, of a yellowish-gray
color. This man's name was Bourdin.

"Oh, what a stink of misery and death is here!" said Malicorne,
stopping at the threshold.

"The fact is, it does not smell of musk. What habits!" repeated
Bourdin, turning up his nose in disgust and disdain. He then advanced
toward the artisan, who looked at him with mingled surprise and
indignation.

Through the half-open door was seen Hoppy's evil, watchful, and
cunning face, who, having followed the strangers, unknown to them, was
narrowly watching and listening attentively.

"What do you want?" challenged the lapidary, roughly, disgusted with