d to the pulpit by the officers, to hear their sentence,
standing up, with their wax candles lighted in their hands. As soon as
the sentences of all those whose lives had been spared were read, the
Grand Inquisitor put on his priestly robes and, followed by several
others, took off from them the ban of excommunication (which they were
supposed to have fallen under), by throwing holy water on them with a
small broom.

As soon as this portion of the ceremony was over, those who were
condemned to suffer, and the effigies of those who had escaped by
death, were brought up one by one, and their sentences read; the
winding up of the condemnation of all was in the same words, "that the
Holy Inquisition found it impossible on account of the hardness of
their hearts and the magnitude of their crimes, to pardon them. With
great concern it handed them over to Secular Justice to undergo the
penalty of the laws; exhorting the authorities at the same time to
show clemency and mercy towards the unhappy wretches, and if they
_must_ suffer death, that at all events it might be without the
_spilling of blood_." What mockery was this apparent intercession, not
to shed blood, when to comply with their request, they substituted the
torment and the agony of the stake!

Amine was the last who was led forward to the pulpit, which was fixed
against one of the massive columns of the centre aisle, close to the
throne occupied by the Grand Inquisitor. "You, Amine Vanderdecken,"
cried the public accuser. At this moment an unusual bustle was heard
in the crowd under the pulpit, there was struggling and expostulation,
and the officers raised their wands for silence and decorum--but it
continued.

"You, Amine Vanderdecken, being accused--"

Another violent struggle; and from the crowd darted a young man, who
rushed to where Amine was standing, and caught her in his arms.

"Philip! Philip!" screamed Amine, falling on his bosom; as he caught
her, the cap of flames fell off her head and rolled along the marble
pavement. "My Amine--my wife--my adored one--is it thus we meet? My
lord, she is innocent. Stand off, men," continued he to the officers
of the Inquisition, who would have torn them asunder. "Stand off, or
your lives shall answer for it."

This threat to the officers, and the defiance of all rules, were not
to be borne; the whole Cathedral was in a state of commotion, and the
solemnity of the ceremony was about to be compromised. The Viceroy