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 examination, raised his eyes, and, beholding the form of a female, with a commanding tone of voice, called to the officials to stop. Submissively they obeyed his order. Matilda, released from the fell hands of these relentless ministers of justice, advanced to the table. Her extreme beauty softened the inquisitor who had spoken last. He little thought that, under a form so celestial, so interesting, lurked a heart depraved, vicious as a demon’s. He therefore mildly addressed her; and telling her that, on some future day, her examination would be renewed, committed her to the care of the officials, with orders to conduct her to an apartment better suited to her rank. The chamber to which she followed the officials was spacious and well furnished, but large iron bars secured the windows, which were high, and impossible to be forced. Left again to solitude, again to her own gloomy thoughts--her retrospection but horror and despair--her hopes of futurity none--her fears many and horrible---Matilda’s situation is better conceived than described. Floating in wild confusion, the ideas which presented themselves to her imagination were too horrible for endurance. Deprived, as she was, of all earthly happiness, fierce as had been her passion for Verezzi, the disappointment of which sublimed her brain to the most infuriate delirium of resistless horror, the wretched Matilda still shrunk at death--she shrunk at the punishment of those crimes, in whose perpetration no remorse had touched her soul, for which, even now, she repented not, but as they had deprived her of terrestrial enjoyments.