It is necessary to work up the right spirit." "And when will that be ?" persisted Yanson.

He was not at all offended that it was not worth while to hang him alone.

He did not believe it, but considered it as an excuse for postponing the execution, preparatory to revoking it altogether.

And he was seized with joy; the confused, terrible moment, of which it was so painful to think, retreated far into the distance, becoming fictitious and improbable, as death always seems.
"When?
When ?" cried the warden, a dull, morose old man, growing angry.
"It isn't like hanging a dog, which you take behind the barn--and it is done in no time.

I suppose you would like to be hanged like that, you fool!" "I don't want to be hanged," and suddenly Yanson frowned strangely.