“But pray, sir,” says I, “who were the witnesses? For it hath always been told me that seven were required.” “Why,” says he, “the chief is Dom Lewis de Bustamante, that brought ye hither. Then there is Father Sebastian, a Paulistin like myself, several gentlemen that heard ye speak blasphemies in his highness’s palace, and divers persons of the lower sort, convicts and soldiers and the like, that witnessed your carriage and heard your words on the bridge and in the square of the cathedral.” “Truly,” said I, “you seem hard put to’t for witnesses, and yet, since you have so many, methinks Dom Lewis had done well to have made shift to resign his duty as one of ’em, which can scarce be pleasing to a gentleman of his quality.” “Ye poor ignorant heretic!” cries Father Theodorus, “’tis his duty, and therefore his delight. Sure ’twas he accused ye.” “_Mine own familiar friend!_” says I. “What would ye have?” says the father. “He could do no otherwise; for if he had not done’t, sure he’d have been denounced himself by the priest. ’Tis the law that he that conceals heresy is himself a heretic, and earns the like punishment. And Dom Lewis, being an officer of this holy tribunal, must not set an example of failing in his duty.” Now upon this I fear that I forgot myself, and uttered many things that should not have been said concerning both the Holy Office and its ministers, such as were little like to better my situation, since even Father Theodorus put his hands before his ears and besought me to cease, saying he could not stay to hear such blasphemies. And I, being loath to displease and fray away this good friend, did force myself to cease, and begged of him to take such steps as he saw best for the bringing my case before their lordships. And he departing, I felt all at once an extraordinary great grief that I should of myself have broke in upon my safe, though quiet life, and called myself a fool for my pains, and would have had him return if it had been possible.