"Swear that you know not for what crime you are here imprisoned," said the inquisitor.
Matilda took the oath required. As she spoke, a dewy sweat burst from her brow, and her limbs were convulsed by the extreme of horror, yet the expression of her countenance was changed not.
"What crime have you committed which might subject you to the notice of this tribunal?" demanded he, in a determined tone of voice.
Matilda gave no answer, save a smile of exulting scorn. She fixed her regards upon the inquisitor: her dark eyes flashed fiercely, but she spoke not.
"Answer me," exclaimed he, "what to confess might save both of us needless trouble."
Matilda answered not, but gazed in silence upon the inquisitor's countenance.
He stamped thrice—four officials rushed in, and stood at some distance from Matilda.
"I am unwilling," said the inquisitor, "to treat a female of high birth with indignity; but, if you confess not instantly, my duty will not permit me to withhold the question."
A deeper expression of contempt shaded Matilda's beautiful countenance: she frowned, but answered not.
"You will persist in this foolish obstinacy?" exclaimed the inquisitor. "Officials, do your duty."
Instantly the four, who till now had stood in the background, rushed forwards: they seized Matilda, and bore her into the obscurity of the apartment.
Her dishevelled ringlets floated in negligent luxuriance over her alabaster bosom: her eyes, the contemptuous glance of which had now given way to a confused expression of alarm, were almost closed; and her symmetrical form, as borne away by the four officials, looked interestingly lovely.
The other inquisitor, who, till now, busied by the papers which lay before him, had heeded not Matilda's
