“Pity is wasted on him, Father,” said Rodomont.
“No, my son,” rejoined De Castro. “Our Church is never without commiseration for the most hardened sinner, who may be received into its bosom even at the last hour.”
“You prate of pity, yet would enforce obedience to your doctrines by torture and burnings,” said Derrick Carver. “If I mistake not, you are the ruthless Father de Castro, who hath written and preached on the punishment of heretics, and hath been the means of consigning many true believers in the Gospel to the flames.”
“I am he you suppose, unhappy man,” replied De Castro. “I am a physician[physician] to those who are sick of soul. If the only remedy for their disease be fire, ought I to hesitate to prescribe it?”
“Then treat me as thou hast treated others, merciless priest,” rejoined Derrick Carver. “Thou wilt see what will ensue. Cast abroad my ashes to the winds, and they will cause a tempest which will crush thee and the Prince thy master.”
“Hold thy peace, thou crazy fellow! Thou ravest,” cried Rodomont.
“Not at thy bidding, base hireling of Spain,” rejoined Derrick Carver. “I hold thee in utter contempt. I am an Englishman, and will bend to no foreign yoke—a Protestant, and will never abandon my faith. I give my life for my country and my religion. Wilt thou give thy dog’s life for either?”
“My patriotism and religious zeal do not lead me to turn assassin, Carver,” rejoined Rodomont. “Neither doth it become thee, who hath sold thyself for French gold, to talk of subserviency. I am a loyal subject to the Queen, and a foe to traitors, of whom thou, Derrick, art the vilest.”
“Thou accusest me falsely,” rejoined Carver. “No French gold has ever touched my hand.”
“Answer the question I am about to put,” said the Prince, approaching; “and beware! for thy life depends upon thy truthfulness. It is useless to deny that thou wert hired for this deed. Name thy employer, and I will obtain thy pardon from the Queen. I promise it on my royal word.”