CONTINUATION OF THE CROWN WHICH WAS CHANGED INTO A DRY LEAF.
After and steps in the corridors, which were so dark that they were by at midday, La Esmeralda, still by her escort, was by the police into a chamber. This chamber, in form, the ground of one of those great towers, which, in our own century, still through the of modern with which modern Paris has Paris. There were no to this cellar; no other opening than the entrance, which was low, and closed by an iron door. Nevertheless, light was not lacking; a had been in the of the wall; a large fire was there, which the with its and a candle, which in one corner, of all radiance. The iron which to close the oven, being at that moment, allowed only a view at the mouth of the vent-hole in the dark wall, the of its bars, like a of black and pointed teeth, set apart; which the one of those mouths of which in legends. By the light which from it, the beheld, all about the room, use she did not understand. In the centre a leather mattress, almost upon the ground, over which a provided with a buckle, to a ring in the mouth of a flat-nosed in the of the vault. Tongs, pincers, large ploughshares, the of the furnace, and in a on the coals. The light of the in the only a of things.
This Tartarus was called simply, The Question Chamber.
On the bed, in a attitude, sat Pierrat Torterue, the official torturer. His underlings, two with square faces, leather aprons, and breeches, were moving the iron on the coals.
In did the girl up her courage; on entering this she was with horror.
The of the of the up in line on one side, the of the on the other. A clerk, inkhorn, and a table were in one corner.
Master Jacques Charmolue approached the with a very sweet smile.
“My dear child,” said he, “do you still in your denial?”
“Yes,” she replied, in a voice.
“In that case,” Charmolue, “it will be very painful for us to have to question you more urgently than we should like. Pray take the trouble to seat on this bed. Master Pierrat, make room for mademoiselle, and close the door.”
Pierrat rose with a growl.
“If I the door,” he muttered, “my fire will go out.”
“Well, my dear fellow,” Charmolue, “leave it open then.”
Meanwhile, la Esmeralda had standing. That leather on which so many had writhed, her. Terror the very of her bones; she there and stupefied. At a from Charmolue, the two took her and her in a on the bed. They did her no harm; but when these men touched her, when that leather touched her, she all her blood to her heart. She a look around the chamber. It to her as though she from all her, with the of up her and and her, all those of torture, which as to the of all she had seen, were like what bats, centipedes, and are among and birds.
“Where is the physician?” asked Charmolue.
“Here,” a black she had not noticed.
She shuddered.
“Mademoiselle,” the voice of the of the Ecclesiastical court, “for the third time, do you in the of which you are accused?”
This time she only make a with her head.
“You persist?” said Jacques Charmolue. “Then it me deeply, but I must my office.”
“Monsieur le Procureur du Roi,” said Pierrat abruptly, “How shall we begin?”
Charmolue for a moment with the of a in search of a rhyme.
“With the boot,” he said at last.
The girl herself so by God and men, that her upon her like an thing which has no power in itself.
The and the physician approached her simultaneously. At the same time, the two to among their arsenal.
At the of their irons, the child like a which is being galvanized. “Oh!” she murmured, so low that no one her; “Oh, my Phœbus!” Then she once more into her and her marble silence. This would have rent any other than those of her judges. One would have her a soul, being by Satan the of hell. The which that of saws, wheels, and were about to in their clutches, the being who was about to be by the hands of and pincers, was that gentle, white, creature, a of which was over to the terrible of to grind. Meanwhile, the hands of Pierrat Torterue’s had that leg, that foot, which had so often the passers-by with their and beauty, in the of Paris.
“’Tis a shame!” the tormentor, at these and forms.
Had the been present, he would have at that moment his symbol of the and the fly. Soon the girl, through a which spread her eyes, the approach; she soon her iron plates in the apparatus. Then terror her strength.
“Take that off!” she angrily; and herself up, with her all dishevelled: “Mercy!”
She from the to herself at the of the king’s procurator, but her leg was fast in the of and iron, and she upon the boot, more than a with a of lead on its wing.
At a from Charmolue, she was replaced on the bed, and two hands to her the which from the ceiling.
“For the last time, do you the in the case?” Charmolue, with his benignity.
“I am innocent.”
“Then, mademoiselle, how do you the to your charge?”
“Alas, monseigneur, I do not know.”
“So you them?”
“All!”
“Proceed,” said Charmolue to Pierrat.
Pierrat the of the screw-jack, the was contracted, and the girl one of those which have no in any language.
“Stop!” said Charmolue to Pierrat. “Do you confess?” he said to the gypsy.
“All!” the girl. “I confess! I confess! Mercy!”
She had not calculated her when she the torture. Poor child, life up to that time had been so joyous, so pleasant, so sweet, the pain had her!
“Humanity me to tell you,” the king’s procurator, “that in confessing, it is death that you must expect.”
“I so!” said she. And she upon the leather bed, dying, up, herself to from the her waist.
“Come, one, up a little,” said Master Pierrat, her. “You have the air of the of the Golden Fleece which from Monsieur de Bourgogne’s neck.”
Jacques Charmolue his voice,
“Clerk, write. Young Bohemian maid, you your in the feasts, witches’ sabbaths, and of hell, with ghosts, hags, and vampires? Answer.”
“Yes,” she said, so low that her were in her breathing.
“You to having the which Beelzebub to appear in the clouds to call together the witches’ sabbath, and which is by alone?”
“Yes.”
“You to having the of Bophomet, those of the Templars?”
“Yes.”
“To having had with the under the of a familiar, joined with you in the suit?”
“Yes.”
“Lastly, you and to having, with the of the demon, and of the as the monk, on the night of the twenty-ninth of March last, and a captain named Phœbus de Châteaupers?”
She her large, to the magistrate, and replied, as though mechanically, without or agitation,—
“Yes.”
It was that her was broken.
“Write, clerk,” said Charmolue. And, the torturers, “Release the prisoner, and take her to the court.”
When the had been “unbooted,” the of the her foot, which was still with pain. “Come,” said he, “there’s no great done. You in good season. You still dance, my beauty!”
Then he to his of the officiality,—
“Behold at last! This is a solace, gentlemen! Madamoiselle will us that we have with all possible gentleness.”
