"Yes."
"You confess to having adored the heads of Bophomet, those abominable idols of the Templars?"
"Yes."
"To having had habitual dealings with the devil under the form of a goat familiar, joined with you in the suit?"
"Yes."
"Lastly, you avow and confess to having, with the aid of the demon, and of the phantom vulgarly known as the surly monk, on the night of the twenty-ninth of March last, murdered and assassinated a captain named Phoebus de Châteaupers?"
She raised her large, staring eyes to the magistrate, and replied, as though mechanically, without convulsion or agitation,-"Yes."
It was evident that everything within her was broken.
"Write, clerk," said Charmolue. And, addressing the torturers, "Release the prisoner, and take her back to the court."
When the prisoner had been "unbooted," the procurator of the ecclesiastical court examined her foot, which was still swollen with pain. "Come," said he, "there's no great harm done. You shrieked in good season. You could still dance, my beauty!"
Then he turned to his acolytes of the officiality,-- "Behold justice enlightened at last! This is a solace, gentlemen! Madamoiselle will bear us witness that we have acted with all possible gentleness."