[ WP ] You are a former executioner . Describe your final killing .

It was 1843, Paris, France. I was fifty one. 
 
 It was loud, I could tell you that. Men and women, even children, screamed and chanted, one even through a rock at the bench, where I would... put him to rest. It was awfully cold, I could see my foggy breath rising before my eyes. 
 
 Out of the corner of my left eye, I spotted him. Robert Vincent, found guilty of theft, a lawyer. His eyes were full of emotion, and he was looking at the ground as a guard pushed him forward. Slowly, he inched towards the steps onto the bench. I rubbed my meaty shoulder and stared, minutes before I would go up. 
 
 `` Robert Actus Vincent, found guilty of theft.'' Cries from the crowd, `` Settle down! Settle down!'' The crowd only toned their attitude a notch, it was still heated with anger and disgust throughout the many women and children. 
 
 He knelt down slowly, his hands put behind his back in handcuffs, his hair matted down. He weeped softly; I could tell he was regretting stealing the loaf of bread. Typical actions from a man sentenced to death; regretting the action that put your head onto the ground. 
 
 It was my time. I held the axe in my clammy hands, shaking with the knowledge of what would come. It was disgusting; my sixty-something execution. The axe method of execution was coming to an end, guillotines made up of nine-tenths of all execution, which meant that this would be one of my last. 
 
 I made my way up the wooden stairs, my beard sweaty, the man laying calmly on the wooden table. He was breathing normally, which was what really got me. Robert was one of the calmest men I'd ever executed. 
 
 When I took the axe to his head, he said no words at all. It was rather heroic in a way, and I respected him. Lots of men and women make a fuss, one tried even running away. 
 
 After the axe sunk into his head, it was a mess, as usual. The crowds cheered, and eventually drifted off. Me? I stayed for a while, as they mopped up his remains, planning, thinking about a major decision in my life. 
 
 That day was the last execution I ever did. I made a decent living, but it was too extreme for even me, a semi-barbaric man, to do. I packed up my things, and made off into the snowy woods beyond my house, leaving the axe I'd used to kill Robert in a muddy stream, and went to Roberts grave, where I placed the petals of a rose in respect for the man, and whispered, `` Adieu.'' 
 
 Farewell.
