The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed in front of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud: "Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?" "Put her nearer the fire," said the alderman. Then he inquired of her: "How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches' Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?" Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say "No." But the alderman said: "I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch's fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer." Katheline cried out. But the alderman said: "You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you." And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off. "Ask Satan to help you," said the alderman. Ten o'clock struck. It was the madman's dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture. An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said: "I think she is dead." The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them, and Katheline's feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman: "Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me! Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth." The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him: "Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late? Four times three is the sacred number. He killeth those who hold me in desire." The alderman said: "It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!" "The pains of the torture have turned her brain," said the clerk.