“I demand but to die in peace,” replied the miserable woman; “and God’s will be done!”
“She refuses the trial by water,” said the chief schreiber, in order to establish the fact, which was put down in writing by the adjuncts.
“To the stake! to the stake!” howled the crowd.
“And hast thou nothing to urge against the justice of thy sentence?” asked the official questioner.
“Justice!” cried Magdalena, with a start, which caused the chain around her waist to clank upon the wretched stool on which she sat. “Justice!” she cried in a tone of indignation. For a moment the earthly spirit revolted. But it gleamed only for an instant. “May God pardon my unjust judge the sins of his youth,”—she paused, and added, “as I forgive him my cruel death!” With these words, the last spark of angry feeling was extinguished for ever. “May God pardon him, as well as those who have thus cruelly witnessed against me; and may He bless him, and all those who are most near and dear to him,” she continued—her voice, as she spoke, growing gradually more subdued, until it was lost and choked in convulsive sobbings.
Again a thrill of horror passed through the Ober-Amtmann; for the sound of the voice seemed to revive in his mind memories of the past, and recall a vision he had already striven to dispel from it. His frame shuddered, and again he fell back in his chair.
“It is a delusion of Satan!” he muttered, pressing his hands to his ears, and closing his eyes.
Bertha’s eyes streamed with tears; her pitying heart was tortured by this scene of sadness.
“Blessings instead of curses upon those who have condemned her! Can that be guilt?” said gentle Gottlob to himself. “Can that be the spirit of the malicious and revengeful agent of the dark deeds of Satan? No—she is innocent; and I will still save her, if human means can save!”
After thus parleying with himself, Gottlob began to struggle to make his way from the court.