ther!" groaned this singular man, "support me in the trial
to which I am appointed. Thou knowest that the glory of thy blessed Son
is the sole object for which I live, and move, and have my being; but at
times, alas! the spirit is infected with the weakness of the flesh. Ora
pro nobis, O Mother of mercy! Verily, oftentimes my heart sinks within
me when it is mine to vindicate the honour of thy holy cause against the
young and the tender, the aged and the decrepit. But what are beauty
and youth, grey hairs and trembling knees, in the eye of the Creator?
Miserable worms are we all; nor is there anything acceptable in the
Divine sight but the hearts of the faithful. Youth without faith, age
without belief, purity without grace, virtue without holiness, are only
more hideous by their seeming beauty--whited sepulchres, glittering
rottenness. I know this--I know it; but the human man is strong within
me. Strengthen me, that I pluck it out; so that, by diligent and
constant struggle with the feeble Adam, thy servant may be reduced into
a mere machine, to punish the godless and advance the Church."

Here sobs and tears choked the speech of the Dominican; he grovelled in
the dust, he tore his hair, he howled aloud: the agony was fierce
upon him. At length, he drew from his robe a whip, composed of several
thongs, studded with small and sharp nails; and, stripping his gown,
and the shirt of hair worn underneath, over his shoulders, applied the
scourge to the naked flesh with a fury that soon covered the green sward
with the thick and clotted blood. The exhaustion which followed this
terrible penance seemed to restore the senses of the stern fanatic. A
smile broke over the features, that bodily pain only released from the
anguished expression of mental and visionary struggles; and, when he
rose, and drew the hair-cloth shirt over the lacerated and quivering
flesh, he said--"Now hast thou deigned to comfort and visit me, O
pitying Mother; and, even as by these austerities against this miserable
body, is the spirit relieved and soothed, so dost thou typify and
betoken that men's bodies are not to be spared by those who seek to save
souls and bring the nations of the earth into thy fold."

With that thought the countenance of Torquemada reassumed its wonted
rigid and passionless composure; and, replacing the scourge, yet clotted
with blood, in his bosom, he pursued his way to the royal tent.

He found Ferdinand poring over the accou