"Look to your words!" said the Inquisitor, "and remember your oath. What was the ground of accusation?"
"I understood," said Vivaldi, "that I was accused of having stolen a nun from her sanctuary."
A faint degree of surprise appeared on the brow of the Inquisitor. "You confess it, then?" he said, after the pause of a moment, and making a signal to the Secretary, who immediately noted Vivaldi's words.
"I solemnly deny it," replied Vivaldi, "the accusation is false and malicious."
"Remember the oath you have taken!" repeated the Inquisitor, "learn also, that mercy is shewn to such as make full confession; but that the torture is applied to those, who have the folly and the obstinacy to withhold the truth."
"If you torture me till I acknowledge the justness of this accusation," said Vivaldi, "I must expire under your inflictions, for suffering never shall compel me to assert a falsehood. It is not the truth, which you seek; it is not the guilty, whom you punish; the innocent, having no crimes to confess, are the victims of your cruelty, or, to escape from it, become criminal, and proclaim a lie."
"Recollect yourself," said the Inquisitor, sternly. "You are not brought hither to accuse, but to answer accusation. You say you are innocent; yet acknowledge yourself to be acquainted with the subject of the charge which is to be urged against you! How could you know this, but from the voice of conscience?"
"From the words of your own summons," replied Vivaldi, "and from those of your officials who arrested me."
"How!" exclaimed the Inquisitor, "note that," pointing to the Secretary; "he says by the words of our summons; now we know, that you never read that summons. He says also by the words of our officials;—it appears, then, he is ignorant, that death would follow such a breach of confidence."
"It is true, I never did read the summons," replied Vivaldi, "and as true, that I never asserted I did; the friar, who read it, told of what it accused me, and your officials confirmed the testimony."