“I did it out of attachment to Chaudieu, the only person whom I saw in the matter.”

“Do you persist in saying you did not see the Prince de Conde?”

“Yes.”

“The Prince de Conde did not tell you that the queen-mother was inclined to enter into his views against the Messieurs de Guise?”

“I did not see him.”

“Take care! one of your accomplices, La Renaudie, has been arrested.  Strong as he is, he was not able to bear the ‘question,’ which will now be put to you; he confessed at last that both he and the Prince de Conde had an interview with you.  If you wish to escape the torture of the question, I exhort you to tell me the simple truth.  Perhaps you will thus obtain your full pardon.”

Christophe answered that he could not state a thing of which he had no knowledge, or give himself accomplices when he had none.  Hearing these words, the provost-marshal signed to the executioner and retired himself to the inner room.  At that fatal sign Christophe’s brows contracted, his forehead worked with nervous convulsion, as he prepared himself to suffer.  His hands closed with such violence that the nails entered the flesh without his feeling them.  Three men seized him, took him to the camp bed and laid him there, letting his legs hang down.  While the executioner fastened him to the rough bedstead with strong cords, the assistants bound his legs into the “boots.”  Presently the cords were tightened, by means of a wrench, without the pressure causing much pain to the young Reformer.  When each leg was thus held as it were in a vice, the executioner grasped his hammer and picked up the wedges, looking alternately at the victim and at the clerk.

“Do you persist in your denial?” asked the clerk.

“I have told the truth,” replied Christophe.

“Very well.  Go on,” said the clerk, closing his eyes.

The cords were tightened with great force.  This was perhaps the most painful moment of the torture; the flesh being suddenly compressed, the blood rushed violently toward the breast.  The poor boy could not restrain a dreadful cry and seemed about to faint.  The doctor was called in.  After feeling Christophe’s pulse, he told the executioner to wait a quarter of an hour before driving the first wedge in, to let the action of the blood subside and allow the victim to recover his full sensitiveness.  The clerk suggested, kindly, that if he could not bear this beginning of sufferings which he could not escape, it would be better to reveal all at once; but Christophe made no reply except to say, “The king’s tailor! the king’s tailor!”

“What do you mean by those words?” asked the clerk.

“Seeing what torture I must bear,” said Christophe, slowly, hoping to gain time to rest, “I call up all my strength, and try to increase it by thinking of the martyrdom borne by the king’s tailor for the holy cause of the Reformation, when the question was applied to him in presence of Madame la Duchesse de Valentinois and the king.  I shall try to be worthy of him.”