being burnt alive throw me into such a fever? I felt ashamed of
this unworthy fear, and though just on the point of crying out to
the jailer to let me out, I restrained myself, reflecting that there
might be as little pleasure in being strangled as in being burnt.
Still I felt really afraid.

"Here," said I, "is a specimen of my courage, should I escape the
flames, and be doomed to mount the scaffold. I will restrain my
fear, and hide it from others as well as I can, though I know I
shall tremble. Yet surely it is courage to behave as if we were not
afraid, whatever we may feel. Is it not generosity to give away
that which it costs us much to part with? It is, also, an act of
obedience, though we obey with great repugnance."

The tumult in the jailer's house was so loud and continued that I
concluded the fire was on the increase. The messenger sent to ask
permission for our temporary release had not returned. At last I
thought I heard his voice; no; I listened, he is not come. Probably
the permission will not be granted; there will be no means of
escape; if the jailer should not humanely take the responsibility
upon himself, we shall be suffocated in our dungeons! Well, but
this, I exclaimed, is not philosophy, and it is not religion. Were
it not better to prepare myself to witness the flames bursting into
my chamber, and about to swallow me up.

Meantime the clamour seemed to diminish; by degrees it died away;
was this any proof that the fire had ceased? Or, perhaps, all who
could had already fled, and left the prisoners to their fate.

The silence continued, no flames appeared, and I retired to bed,