"She is now within these walls," replied Vivaldi, hoping to learn from the manner of his examiner, whether his fears were just, "and can answer these questions better than myself."
The Inquisitor merely bade the Notary write down her name, and then remained for a few moments meditating. At length, he said, "Do you know where you now are?"
Vivaldi, smiling at the question, replied, "I understand that I am in the prisons of the Inquisition, at Rome."
"Do you know what are the crimes that subject persons to the cognizance of the Holy Office?"
Vivaldi was silent.
"Your conscience informs you, and your silence confirms me. Let me admonish you, once more, to make a full confession of your guilt; remember that this is a merciful tribunal, and shews favour to such as acknowledge their crimes?"
Vivaldi smiled; but the Inquisitor proceeded.
"It does not resemble some severe, yet just courts, where immediate execution follows the confession of a criminal. No! it is merciful, and though it punishes guilt, it never applies the torture but in cases of necessity, when the obstinate silence of the prisoner requires such a measure. You see, therefore, what you may avoid, and what expect."
"But if the prisoner has nothing to confess?" said Vivaldi,—"Can your tortures make him guilty? They may force a weak mind to be guilty of falsehood; to escape present anguish, a man may unwarily condemn himself to the death! You will find that I am not such an one."
"Young man," replied the Inquisitor, "you will understand too soon, that we never act, but upon sure authority; and will wish, too late, that you had made an honest confession. Your silence cannot keep from us a knowledge of your offences; we are in possession of facts; and your obstinacy can neither wrest from us the truth, or pervert it. Your most secret offences are already written on the tablets of the Holy Office; your conscience cannot reflect them more justly,—Tremble, therefore, and revere. But understand, that, though we have sufficient proof of your guilt, we require you to confess; and that the punishment of obstinacy is as certain, as that of any other offence."