"We have come to the test by ordeal," he told the people. "It grieves me that any one of the flock should have gone astray, but when the one who leaves the true fold is my own daughter I am doubly grieved. And, as though it were not enough that she should desert the true church and become a friend and companion of the enemy of the church and state, she brings accusation against the priests of the Lord, against her own father, and the apostolic nuncio. You have heard these charges, for the unbelievers in the city take pleasure in rolling the scandal under their tongues. It is beneath my dignity to deny, it is beneath the dignity of the Pope's messenger to deny, such preposterous things. We will call on the Almighty to decide between us. But first, my daughter, let me beg of you, before we reach this supreme test, recant and save yourself." He turned toward the girl, who was chained to the stake. There were tears in his eyes, and feeling was in his voice. It was evident he sincerely hoped she would clear the situation by recanting. "Ambrosia, save your father," he plead. "Say I did not do the awful thing you charge." "A father should not ask his daughter to perjure herself in the house of the Lord. This is nearly as wicked as to send me to confession in order I might in that holy place be made the victim of another's lust. Priest--for you have been so unfatherly, I will not call you father--you are guilty, and you know it." As she spoke the people arose and stood, eager to catch each word. Now that she was through they caught their breaths with a gasp that was audible through all the edifice. The face of the man in the pulpit grew white as his own surplice. His nails dug into the wood of the pulpit. "Apply the test," said the Jesuit, arising and standing by the other. Lonzello assayed to speak, but he could not articulate. "Shall we call on God to decide between us?" asked the Jesuit of the congregation. "The test, the test," came from over all the house. Lonzello's face grew haggard. Many of the congregation were surprised to see the man before them was old, with face deeply wrinkled. But the Jesuit was placid, fully in command of himself and of the situation. He raised his hands toward heaven, and remained silent until the people grew tense, waiting for what might come. "Thou who didst destroy the guilty Jannes and Jambres in the wilderness," he began impressively, "thou who didst reveal of old the stealer of the golden wedge, judge now, oh, God, the truth between us here. If thy servants are guilty of the things charged against us"-- He paused, not only that he might the more impress the people, but also to place one arm about Lonzello that he might support him in case his nerve should fail him and his limbs grow weak; then, with the other hand spread upward, he continued, impressively: "Strike us dead, oh, God, cause us to die at once."