The unhappy creature felt herself so completely forsaken of God and man，that her head dropped upon her breast like a thing inert and without any power in itself.The torturer and the physician approached her together，while the two assistants began to search in their hideous collection.
At the clank of these terrible irons the wretched child started convulsively，like a poor dead frog galvanized to life.
'Oh！'she murmured，so low that no one heard her；'oh，my P us！'Then she sank again into her previous immobility and but her stony silence.The spectacle would have wrung any but the hearts of judges.It might have been some sin-stained soul being questioned by Satan at the flaming gate of hell.Could the miserable body on which this awful swarm of saws and wheels and pincers was preparing to fasten—could it be this gentle，pure，and fragile creature？Poor grain of millet which human justice was sending to be ground by the grewsome mill-stones of torture！
And now the horny hands of Pierrat Torterue's assistants had brutally uncovered that charming leg，that tiny foot，which had so often astonished the passers-by with their grace and beauty in the streets of Paris.
'‘Tis a pity！'growled even the torturer at the sight of the slender and delicate limbs.
Had the Archdeacon been present，he would certainly have recalled at this moment his allegory of the spider and the fly.
Now，through the mist that spread before her eyes，the unhappy girl perceived the'boot'being brought forward，saw her foot，encased between the iron-bound boards，disappear within the frightful apparatus.Terror restored her strength.'Take it away！'she cried vehemently，starting up all dishevelled：'Mercy！'
She sprang from the bed to throw herself at Charmolue's feet，but her leg was held fast in the heavy block of oak and iron，and she sank over the boot like a bee with a leaden weight attached to its wing.
At a sign from Charmolue they replaced her on the bed，and two coarse hands fastened round her slender waist the leather strap hanging from the roof.
'For the last time，do you confess to the facts of the charge？'asked Charmolue with his imperturbable benignity.
'I am innocent，'was the answer.
'Then，mademoiselle，how do you explain the circumstances brought against you？'
'Alas，my lord，I know not.'
'You deny them？'
'All！'
'Proceed，'said Charmolue to Pierrat.
Pierrat turned the screw，the boot tightened，and the victim uttered one of those horrible screams which have no written equivalent in any human language.
'Stop！'said Charmolue to Pierrat.'Do you confess？'said he to the girl.
'All，'cried the wretched girl.'I confess！I confess！Mercy！'
She had overestimated her forces in braving the torture.Poor child！life had hitherto been so joyous，so pleasant，so sweet，the first pang of agony had overcome her！
'Humanity obliges me to tell you，'observed the King's attorney，'that in confessing，you have only death to look forward to.'
'I hope but for that！'said she，and fell back again on the leather bed，a lifeless heap，hanging doubled over the strap buckled round her waist.
'Hold up，my pretty！'said M re Pierrat，raising her.'You look like the golden sheep that hangs round the neck of Monsieur of Burgundy.'
Jacques Charmolue raised his voice.'Clerk，write this down.Gipsy girl，you confess your participation in the love-feasts，Sabbaths，and orgies of hell，in company with evil spirits，witches，and ghouls？Answer！'
'Yes，'she breathed faintly.
'You admit having seen the ram which Beelzebub causes to appear in the clouds as a signal for the Sabbath，and which is only visible to witches？'
'Yes.'
'You confess to having adored the heads of Bophomet，those abominable idols of the Templars？'
'Yes.'
'To having had familiar intercourse with the devil under the form of a pet goat，included in the prosecution？'
'Yes.'
'Finally，you admit and confess to having，on the night of the twenty-ninth of March last，with the assistance of the demon and of the phantom commonly called the spectre-monk，wounded and assassinated a captain named P us de Chateaupers？'
She raised her glazed eyes to the magistrate and answered mechanically，without a quiver of emotion，'Yes.'It was evident that her whole being was crushed.
'Take that down，'said Charmolue to the clerk.Then，turning to the torturer，'Let the prisoner be unbound and taken back to the court.'
When the prisoner was'unbooted，'the procurator of the Ecclesiastical Court examined her foot，still paralyzed with pain.'Come，'said he，'there's no great harm done.You cried out in time.You could still dance，ma belle！'
And turning to the members of the Office—'At length，justice is enlightened！That is a great consolation，messieurs！Mademoiselle will bear witness that we have used all possible gentleness towards her.'
Chapter 3-End of the Crown Piece changed into A Withered Leaf
When，pale and limping，she re-entered the Court of Justice，she was greeted by a general murmur of pleasure—arising on the part of the public from that feeling of satisfied impatience experienced at the theatre at the expiration of the last entr'acte of a play，when the curtain rises and one knows that the end is about to begin；and on the part of the judges from the hope of soon getting their supper.The little goat，too，bleated with joy.She would have run to her mistress，but they had tied her to the bench.
Night had now completely fallen.The candles，which had not been increased in number，gave so little light that the walls of the court were no longer visible.Darkness enveloped every object in a kind of mist，through which the apathetic faces of the judges were barely distinguishable.Opposite to them，at the extremity of the long hall，they could just see a vague white point standing out against the murky background.It was the prisoner.
