Close the door; I would speak with this penitent, as I
trust he will prove, in private."
"Never fear, your holiness," said the gaoler with somewhat undue
familiarity; "I care little for a Jew's patter, and this fellow
will need a long shrift before they make a roast of him--for that,
I suppose, will be the end of it."
The door slammed.
It was a miserable cell, composed of rough stones, lately put
together, oozing with the moisture from the damp soil around, for
the river was close by and the dungeon beneath its level.
"Art thou prepared to meet thy fitting end?"
"What crime have I committed to deserve death?"
"Thou hast knowingly and wilfully abetted, not one but many
poisoners, and the stake is the fitting doom for thee and them."
"Oh! not the stake, God of Abraham. If ye must slay, at least spare
the agonising flames; but what mercy can we hope for, we faithful
children of Abraham, from Nazarenes?"
"What price art thou willing to pay for thy forfeit life, if thy
sentence is commuted to exile from this land?"
"Price? Canst thou mean it? I will fill thy chambers with gold."
"I seek it not--albeit," added the worthy bishop, "some were fitly
bestowed on the poor--but that thou, whose former crime hast
brought a worthy youth to the block, shouldst undo the mischief as
far as thou art able.
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