Urbain, who in his intercourse with his friends was cordial and agreeable, was sarcastic, cold, and haughty to his enemies.

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On the strength of these promises everyone went home to await the morrow with impatience.

The character of the conspiracy had now become so alarming that Grandier felt it was time to oppose it with all his strength.

The best part of the day having gone over without any sign of either bishop or messenger, Grandier presented a new petition to the bailiff.

“God, I do not wish,” which in the context had no meaning. “God does not wish,” being the appointed answer.

“My father, you make me take such solemn oaths that I fear God will punish me.”

Every woodman needs an axe, every reaper a sickle, and Richelieu found the instrument he required in de Laubardemont, Councillor of State.

The choice of physicians was no less extraordinary.

Grandier obeyed without a murmur and with great humility, and remained sunk in silent prayer for about ten minutes; he then resumed his former attitude.

“My God! they are killing me, and yet I am neither a sorcerer nor sacrilegious!”

“‘It was wrong of me to deny Grandier the confessor he asked for; God is punishing me, God is punishing me!’