“Madame, I am sent to prevent blasphemy, to restore the truth.”
“Ha! can you convert us by burning our bodies?”
“If you burn not now, woman, you will burn in hell hereafter.”
She stood back two steps from him, staring at the floor. In imagination, she heard the hiss of the green faggots, the grim purr of the gathering flames, felt their scorching breath upon her face. Was there no salvation save in this stark death? Was a heart full of convictions worth such torture? Great helplessness fell like a fog about her brain. Life, ruddy and eager, cried out for pity; the lust to live grew quick and violent in her blood.
“You tempt me to the death,” she said, with head thrown back.
“Not so, my sister.”
“To the death.”
“Nay, nay, to life. Lift up your face to the Church’s bosom. It is warm and fragrant to the faithful. Come, sister, come.”
She swayed forward like one about to faint, clutched at the table, steadied herself upon her straining arms.
“I surrender,” she said hoarsely. “What else is there for me to do?”