ed an implacable hatred to the Inquisition.
To that fell tribunal, there can be little doubt, he became a helpless
victim. Intimation of the intended festival had publicly been made in
all the churches and religious houses in the neighbourhood. The
attendance of the civil authorities and of the clergy was requested; and
that the multitude might be encouraged to come, an indulgence of forty
days was proclaimed to all who should witness the ceremonies of the act.

While outside preparations were going forward, the officials of the
Inquisition were busy within the walls of the prison. The prisoners,
being assembled, were clothed in the several dresses in which they were
to make their appearance in public. Those who had erred only in a
slight degree were clothed simply in black. The other prisoners wore a
san-benito, a loose garment of yellow cloth, called in Spanish _zamara_,
and on their heads was placed a high conical pasteboard cap, called
_coroza_. On the dresses of those who were to be strangled were painted
flames burning downwards, called _fuego revolto_, to intimate that they
had escaped the fire; while the san-benito and coroza of those doomed to
be burnt alive were covered with flames burning upwards, around which
were painted devils carrying the faggots or fanning the fire.

Now, on that bright May morning, a procession was to be seen moving
forth from the Inquisition of Valladolid. First marched a band of
soldiers to clear the way, and then came a number of priests in their
gaudy robes--alb, chasuble, tunic, and other garments, the names of
which are familiar to modern ears. They were attended by acolytes and
boys of various theological colleges, chanting the Litany in alternate
choruses. Then came the mournful band of prisoners--those in black
first, those marked with the _fuego revolto_ following, and those
destined to the flames walking last. Each prisoner was attended by two
familiars of the Inquisition, and each of those destined to die, in
addition, was accompanied by two friars, who employed all the arguments
they could bring forward, all the eloquence they could command, in
endeavouring to induce the prisoners to recant and confess their errors.
Among the last of the sad band came Antonio Herezuelo. Though his face
was pale, he walked with a firm step, and he replied now with a smile,
now with a few gentle words, to the exhortations of the two friars. He,
as was the case with his companions,