But already the torture had commenced, for the very threat of it is known as the first degree. I was in despair. Death I could suffer. But under torments I feared that my strength might fail. I felt my flesh creeping and tightening upon my body, which had grown very cold with the awful chill of fear; my hair seemed to bristle and stiffen until I thought that I could feel each separate thread of it. “I swear to you that I have spoken the truth,” I cried desperately. “I swear it by the sacred image of Our Redeemer standing there before you.” “Shall we believe the oath of an unbeliever attainted of sacrilege?” he grumbled, and he almost seemed to sneer. “Believe or not,” I answered. “But believe this--that one day you shall stand face to face with a Judge Whom there is no deceiving, to answer for the abomination that you make of justice in His Holy Name. Let loose against me your worst cruelties, then; they shall be as caresses to the torments that will be loosed against you when your turn for Judgment comes.” “To the hoist with him,” he commanded, stretching an arm towards the grey tentacle-like ropes. “We must soften his heart and break the diabolical pride that makes him persevere in blasphemy.” They led me aside into that place of torments, and one of them drew down the ropes from the pulley overhead, until the ends fell on a level with my wrists. And this was torture of the second degree--to see its imminence. “Will you confess?” boomed the inquisitor's voice. I made him no answer. “Strip and attach him,” he commanded. The executioners laid hold of me, and in the twinkling of an eye I stood naked to the waist. I caught my lips in my teeth as the ropes were being adjusted to my wrists, and as thus I suffered torture of the third degree. “Will you confess?” came again the question. And scarcely had it been put--for the last time, as I well knew--than the door was flung open, and a young man in black sprang into the chamber, and ran to thrust a parchment before the inquisitor. The inquisitor made a sign to the executioners to await his pleasure. I stood with throbbing pulses, and waited, instinctively warned that this concerned me. The inquisitor took the parchment, considered its seals and then the writing upon it. That done he set it down and turned to face us. “Release him,” he bade the executioners, whereat I felt as I would faint in the intensity of this reaction. When they had done his bidding, the Dominican beckoned me forward. I went, still marvelling. “See,” he said, “how inscrutable are the Divine ways, and how truth must in the end prevail. Your innocence is established, after all, since the Holy Father himself has seen cause to intervene to save you. You are at liberty. You are free to depart and to go wheresoever you will. This bull concerns you.” And he held it out to me.