He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again.
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