Irritated at her
long confinement, and the injustice of the proceedings, she replied,
"I have told you once for all, that I have nothing to confess; do with
me as you will; but be quick." "Will torture oblige you to confess?" "Try me," replied Amine, firmly--"try me, cruel men; and if you gain
but one word from me, then call me craven: I am but a woman--but I
dare you--I defy you." It was seldom that such expressions fell upon the ears of her judges,
and still more seldom that a countenance was lighted up with such
determination. But the torture was never applied until after the
accusation had been made and answered. "We shall see," said the Grand Inquisitor: "take her away." Amine was led back to her cell. In the meantime, Father Mathias had
had several conferences with the Inquisitor. Although, in his wrath he
had accused Amine, and had procured the necessary witnesses against
her, he now felt uneasy and perplexed. His long residence with
her--her invariable kindness till the time of his dismissal--his
knowledge that she had never embraced the faith--her boldness and
courage, nay, her beauty and youth--all worked strongly in her favour. His only object now was, to persuade her to confess that she was
wrong, induce her to embrace the faith, and save her. With this view
he had obtained permission from the Holy Office to enter her dungeon,
and reason with her--a special favour which for many reasons they
could not well refuse him. It was on the third day after her second
examination, that the bolts were removed at an unusual hour, and
Father Mathias entered the cell, which was again barred, and he was
left alone with Amine. "My child! my child!" exclaimed Father Mathias,
with sorrow in his countenance. "Nay, Father, this is mockery. It is you who brought me here--leave
me." "I brought you here, 'tis true; but I would now remove you, if you
will permit me, Amine." "Most willingly; I'll follow you." "Nay, nay! there is much to talk over, much to be done. This is not a
dungeon from which people can escape so easily." "Then tell me what have you to say; and what is it must be done?" "I will." "But, stop; before you say one word answer me one question as you hope
for bliss: have you heard aught of Philip?" "Yes, I have. He is well." "And where is he?" "He will soon be here." "God, I thank you! Shall I see him, Father?" "That must depend upon yourself." "Upon myself. Then tell me, quickly, what would they have me do?" "Confess your sins--your crimes." "What sins?--what crimes?" "Have you not dealt with evil beings, invoked the spirits, and gained
the assistance of those who are not of this world?" Amine made no reply. "Answer me. Do you not confess?" "I do not confess to have done anything wrong." "This is useless. You were seen by me and others. What will avail your
denial? Are you aware of the punishment, which most surely awaits you,
if you do not confess, and become a member of our church?" "Why am I to become a member of your church? Do you, then, punish
those who refuse?" "No: had you not already consented to receive baptism, you would not
have been asked to become so; but having been baptised, you must now
become a member, or be supposed to fall back into heresy." "I knew not the nature of your baptism at that time." "Granted: but you consented to it." "Be it so. But, pray, what may be the punishment, if I refuse?" "You will be burnt alive at the stake; nothing can save you. Hear me,
Amine Vanderdecken: when next summoned, you must confess all; and,
asking pardon, request to be received into the church; then will you
be saved, and you will--"

"What?" "Again be clasped in Philip's arms." "My Philip! my Philip! you, indeed, press me hard; but, Father, if I
confess I am wrong, when I feel that I am not"

"Feel that you are not!" "Yes. I invoked my mother's assistance; she gave it me in a dream. Would a mother have assisted her daughter, if it were wrong?" "It was not your mother, but a fiend who took the likeness." "It was my mother. Again you ask me to say that I believe that which I
cannot." "That which you cannot! Amine Vanderdecken, be not obstinate." "I am not obstinate, good Father. Have you not offered me, what is to
me beyond all price, that I should again be in the arms of my husband? Can I degrade myself to a lie? not for life, or liberty or even for my
Philip." "Amine Vanderdecken, if you will confess your crime, before you are
accused, you will have done much; after your accusation has been made,
it will be of little avail." "It will not be done either before or after, Father. What I have done
I have done, but a crime it is not to me and mine; with you it may be,
but I am not of yours." "Recollect also that you peril your husband, for having wedded with a
sorceress. Forget not: to-morrow I will see you again." "My mind is troubled," replied Amine. "Leave me, Father, it will be a
kindness." Father Mathias quitted the cell, pleased with the last words of Amine. The idea of her husband's danger seemed to have startled her. Amine threw herself down on the mattress, in the corner of the cell,
and hid her face. "Burnt alive!" exclaimed she after a time, sitting up, and passing her
hands over her forehead. "Burnt alive! and these are Christians. This, then, was the cruel death foretold by that creature,
Schriften--foretold--yes, and therefore must be: it is my destiny:
I cannot save myself. If I confess, then, I confess that Philip is
wedded to a sorceress, and he will be punished too. No, never--never:
I can suffer, 'tis cruel--'tis horrible to think of--but 'twill soon
be over. God of my fathers, give me strength against these wicked men,
and enable me to bear all, for my dear Philip's sake." The next evening Father Mathias again made his appearance. He found
Amine calm and collected: she refused to listen to his advice, or
follow his injunctions. His last observation, that "her husband would
be in peril, if she was found guilty of sorcery," had steeled her
heart, and she had determined that neither torture nor the stake
should make her confess the act. The priest left the cell, sick at
heart; he now felt miserable at the idea of Amine's perishing by so
dreadful a death; accused himself of precipitation, and wished that he
had never seen Amine, whose constancy and courage, although in error,
excited his admiration and his pity. And then he thought of Philip,
who had treated him so kindly--how could he meet him? And if he asked
for his wife--what answer could he give? Another fortnight passed, when Amine was again summoned to the Hall
of Judgment, and again asked if she confessed her crimes. Upon her
refusal, the accusations against her were read. She was accused by
Father Mathias with practising forbidden arts, and the depositions of
the boy Pedro, and the other witnesses, were read.