Nothing was talked of but the edicts and the inquisition.

Nothing else entered into the minds of men.

In the streets, in the shops, in the taverns, in the fields; at market, at church, at funerals, at weddings; in the noble's castle, at the farmer's fireside, in the mechanic's garret, upon the merchants' exchange, there was but one perpetual subject of shuddering conversation.

It was better, men began to whisper to each other, to die at once than to live in perpetual slavery.
It was better to fall with arms in hand than to be tortured and butchered by the inquisition.

Who could expect to contend with such a foe in the dark?
They reproached the municipal authorities with lending themselves as instruments to the institution.