The low voice vibrated in rhythmic waves through the dead silence of the room.
“To them also you now owe this opportunity to abjure the writings which have caused us and yourself such great sorrow; to them you owe this privilege of confessing before us, who will receive your recantation, remit your unintentional sins, and restore you to honor and service in our beloved Church.”
Josè suddenly came to himself. Recant! Confess! In God’s name, what? Abjure his writings, the convictions of a lifetime!
“These writings, my son, are not your sane and rational convictions,” the Pontiff suggested.
Josè still stood mute before him.
“You renounce them now, in the clear light of restored reason; and you swear future lealty to us and to Holy Church,” the aged Father continued.
“Make answer!” commanded one of the Cardinal-Bishops, starting toward the wavering priest. “Down on your knees before the Holy Father, who waits to forgive your venial sin!”
Josè turned swiftly to the approaching Cardinal and held up a hand. The man stopped short. The Pontiff and his associates bent forward in eager anticipation. The valet fell back, and Josè stood alone. In that tense mental atmosphere the shrinking priest seemed to be transformed into a Daniel.
“No, Holy Father, you mistake!” His voice rang through the room like a clarion. “I do not recant! My writings do express my deepest and sanest convictions!”
The Pontiff’s pallid face went dark. The eyes of the other 76 auditors bulged with astonishment. A dumb spell settled over the room.