It is
the judgment that has been passed upon her, judgment without forgiveness
or reprieve. I am the abbess of this convent--ask not its name or
mine--and I love this sinner as though she were my daughter. I have
obtained this much of mercy for her because of my faithful services
to the church and by secret influence, that when I give her the cup of
water before the work is done, I may mix poison with it and touch the
lips of the babe with poison, so that their end is swift. I may do this
and yet have no sin upon my soul. I have my pardon under seal. Help me
then to be an innocent murderess, and to save this sinner from her last
agonies on earth.'
I cannot set down the feelings with which I listened to this tale
of horror, for words could not carry them. I stood aghast seeking an
answer, and a dreadful thought entered my mind.
'Is this woman named Isabella de Siguenza?' I asked.
'That name was hers in the world,' she answered, 'though how you know it
I cannot guess.'
'We know many things in this house, mother. Say now, can this Isabella
be saved by money or by interest?'
'It is impossible; her sentence has been confirmed by the Tribunal of
Mercy. She must die and within two hours. Will you not give the poison?'
'I cannot give it unless I know its purpose, mother. This may be a
barren tale, and the medicine might be used in such a fashion that I
should fall beneath the law.
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