unto you, fear
Him.'" Herezuelo spoke these words calmly, and added, "Now, friar, I
own that you and those you serve can kill my body, but you can do no
more: my soul is in the keeping of my loving Saviour; neither the powers
of earth nor hell can prevail against it; therefore I am fearless."

With a curse, the friar turned and left the cell. Herezuelo sought
strength in prayer for the fiery trial he was to go through. "It will
endure but for a few minutes, and oh, then the eternity of bliss which
will follow!" he ejaculated. "Why should I fear? why should I tremble?
My trust is in God."

Ere the sun, rising in a cloudless sky, gilded the spires of the
numerous churches of Valladolid, on the 21st of May, 1559, their bells
began to toll solemnly, and crowds to assemble in vast numbers in the
streets. It was Trinity Sunday; but it was not because it was the
Sabbath that the citizens were so early afoot, but there was to be a
grand spectacle, looked for with almost the same eagerness as a
bull-fight. The first grand _auto-da-fe_ of Protestants was to take
place that day, and all the people were eager to gaze at it--most of
them for the sake of seeing so many lost and abandoned monsters put out
of the world.

For this it was that the people came from all parts of the city and
surrounding country into the grand square of Valladolid to witness the
spectacle which had been prepared for them by those who impiously called
themselves ministers of the loving Jesus. In a short time the whole of
the grand square was filled with impatient spectators, except that space
occupied by two large platforms between the church of Saint Francis and
the house of the Consistory. In front of the town-house, and close to
the platform intended for the inquisitors, a large box or deep-covered
balcony had been erected for the use of the Royal Family, which they
could enter without interruption from the crowd, and from whence they
could enjoy a full view of the prisoners. Near it was a high altar,
with the usual crucifixes, candlesticks, vases, and other ornaments of
the Romish worship, made on this occasion as imposing as possible. In
the box sat Dona Juana, Queen-Dowager of Portugal, and governess of the
kingdom during the absence of her brother, Philip the Second, in the
Netherlands. She was accompanied by her unhappy nephew, Don Carlos,
heir-apparent to the throne, then a lad only of fourteen. It is said
that on that occasion he vow