“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.