[Illustration: the serjeant is restrained from attacking William]
"Egad!" cried Don Cleophas, "our holy inquisition is ever alive to its interests. No sooner do they light upon a profitable----" "Softly!" interrupted the devil, "have a care how you launch out against that tribunal:--for it, the very walls have ears. They echo even words that the mouth has never spoken; and for myself, I hardly dare to mention it without trembling."
"Over the unfortunate William, in the first chamber to the left, are two men worthy of your pity; one of them is a youthful valet, whom his master's wife privately indulged with the use of more than her husband's clothes. One day, however, the husband surprised them together; when the lady immediately began crying out for help, and accused the valet of having violated her person. The poor fellow was arrested, of course; and, according to appearances, will be sacrificed to his mistress's reputation. His companion, still less guilty than the valet, is also about to pay the forfeit of his life. He was footman to a duchess who has been robbed of a valuable diamond, which they accuse him of having taken. He will be to-morrow put to the torture, until the rack wrings from him a confession of the theft; and in the meanwhile the lady's maid, who is the real culprit, and whom no one dares to suspect, will moralise with the duchess on the depravity of modern servants."
"Ah! Signor Asmodeus," said Leandro, "let not the wretched footman perish, I entreat you! His innocence interests me for his life. Save him, by your power, from the unjust and cruel torture they would inflict: he deserves----" "You cannot expect it, Signor Student!" interrupted the demon. "What! do you suppose that I would prevent injustice?--that I would snatch the guiltless from destruction? As well might you pray an attorney to desist from the ruin of the widow or the orphan!"
"Oh! and it please you," added the Devil, "expect not of me that which is contrary to my interest, unless indeed it be of great advantage to yourself. Besides, were I willing to deliver yonder prisoner from bondage, how could I effect it?" "How!" repeated Zambullo, "do you mean to say that you have not the power so to do?" "Certainly," replied the Cripple. "Had you read the Enchiridion, or Albertus Magnus, you would know that neither I, nor any of my brethren, can liberate a prisoner from his cell: even I, were I so unfortunate as to be within the talons of the law, could only hope to escape by bribing my jailer, or my judges.