“Confess your sins against your God! confess, and be saved! There is salvation for the worst of sinners,” drawled out the other.
“I am not aware of having committed any sins,” said the philanthropist; “therefore I can have no confession to make.”
“How have you served your Creator? What has been your religion?” inquired his companion, sharply.
“I have considered that philanthropy was the only true religion, and I have practised it,” replied master Porphyry; “and I felt convinced that the right way of worshipping God was by doing all the good in my power to my fellow-creatures; and from that way I have never deviated.”
“Atheistical, abominable, atrocious, heretical, and damnable!” exclaimed the priest, with a look of horror. “You are in the hands of the devil. The church renounces you. Flames and brimstone must be your portion; wailing and gnashing of teeth your reward.”
The philanthropist looked surprised; but turning to one of the assistant executioners who stood at a short distance, he said, “I am ready.” The man instantly proceeded to disrobe him of his upper garment, and arranged his dress so that the whole of his neck was bare.
“I would rather have died in that robe,” observed he; “for I like not parting with the honours that have been bestowed upon me. However, it is gratifying to know that I have never disgraced it. It can give me no distinction where I am going, therefore there let it lie.”—His countenance every moment appeared to become more benevolent in its expression; and there was a nobility in his manner that commanded respect from all around him.
“Kill me as quickly as you can, my good friend,” said he to the executioner; “but after you have killed me you may do what you please.”
The citizens had watched with breathless interest the preparations for Master Porphyry’s execution; but when they beheld him kneel down before the block, and saw the headsman raise his axe, a shudder seemed to pass over the whole multitude. At this instant a proud-looking man, in a military costume, appeared upon the scaffold; and, immediately he was observed, a yell of execration arose from the quadrangle, and from every place that could command a view of the platform. The officer stood up his full height, and looked down upon the people with glances of scorn and contempt. Groans, hisses, and curses became louder and more general.
“Death to the persecutor!” shouted one.