President, the Inquisitor, and two assisting Judges.--The first,
with a look of deep commiseration, acquainted me that my sentence
had arrived; that it was a terrible one; but that the clemency of
the Emperor had mitigated it.

The Inquisitor, fixing his eye on me, then read it:- "Silvio
Pellico, condemned to death; the imperial decree is, that the
sentence be commuted for fifteen years hard imprisonment in the
fortress of Spielberg."

"The will of God be done!" was my reply.

It was really my intention to bear this horrible blow like a
Christian, and neither to exhibit nor to feel resentment against any
one whatever. The President then commended my state of mind, warmly
recommending me to persevere in it, and that possibly by affording
an edifying example, I might in a year or two be deemed worthy of
receiving further favours from the imperial clemency.

Instead, however, of one or two, it was many years before the full
sentence was remitted.

The other judges also spoke encouragingly to me. One of them,
indeed, had appeared my enemy on my trial, accosting me in a
courteous but ironical tone, while his look of insulting triumph
seemed to belie his words. I would not make oath it was so, but my
blood was then boiling, and I was trying to smother my passion.
While they were praising me for my Christian patience, I had not a
jot of it left me. "To-morrow," continued the Inquisitor, "I am
sorry to say, you must appear and receive your sentence in public.