“How so? dost thou think it a blessing never to have seen the face of a human being, or the sun, or the earth? What strange fancies are these?”
“They are not so, most noble sir. For in the midst of what you call darkness, I see a spot of what I must call light, it contrasts so strongly with all around. It is to me what the sun is to you, which I know to be local from the varying direction of its rays. And this object looks upon me as with a countenance of intensest beauty, and smiles upon me ever. And I know it to be that of Him whom I love with undivided affection. I would not for the world have its splendor dimmed by a brighter sun, nor its wondrous loveliness confounded with the diversities of others’ features, nor my gaze on it drawn aside by earthly visions. I love Him too much not to wish to see Him always alone.”
“Come, come! let me have no more of this silly prattle. Obey the emperors at once, or I must try what a little pain will do. That will soon tame thee.”
“Pain?” she echoed innocently.
“Yes, pain. Hast thou never felt it? hast thou never been hurt by any one in thy life?”
“Oh, no! Christians never hurt one another.”
The rack was standing, as usual, before him; and he made a sign to Catulus to place her upon it. The executioner pushed her back on it by her arms; and as she made no resistance, she was easily laid extended on its wooden couch. The loops of the ever-ready ropes were in a moment passed round her ankles, and arms drawn over the head. The poor sightless girl saw not who did all this; she knew not but it might be the same person who had been conversing with her. If there had been silence hitherto, men now held their very breath; while Cæcilia’s lips moved in earnest prayer.
“Once more, before proceeding further, I call on thee to sacrifice to the gods, and escape cruel torments,” said the judge, with a sterner voice.
“Neither torments nor death,” firmly replied the victim tied to the altar, “shall separate me from the love of Christ. I can offer up no sacrifice but to the one living God: and its ready oblation is myself.”
The prefect made a signal to the executioner, and he gave one rapid whirl to the two wheels of the rack, round the windlasses of which the ropes were wound; and the limbs of the maiden were stretched with a sudden jerk, which, though not enough to wrench them from their sockets, as a further turn would have done, sufficed to inflict an excruciating, or more truly, a racking pain, through all her frame. Far more grievous was this, from the preparation and the cause of it being unseen, and from that additional suffering which darkness inflicts. A quivering of her features and a sudden paleness alone gave evidence of her torture.