nor a good father. He had observed that we are never so tenderly
loved as by women to whom we scarcely give a thought. Dona Elvira

had been devoutly brought up by an old aunt in a castle a few
leagues from San-Lucar in a remote part of Andalusia. She was a

model of devotion and grace. Don Juan foresaw that this would be
a woman who would struggle long against a passion before

yielding, and therefore hoped to keep her virtuous until his
death. It was a jest undertaken in earnest, a game of chess which

he meant to reserve till his old age. Don Juan had learned wisdom
from the mistakes made by his father Bartolommeo; he determined

that the least details of his life in old age should be
subordinated to one object--the success of the drama which was to

be played out upon his death-bed.
For the same reason the largest part of his wealth was buried in

the cellars of his palace at Ferrara, whither he seldom went. As
for the rest of his fortune, it was invested in a life annuity,

with a view to give his wife and children an interest in keeping
him alive; but this Machiavellian piece of foresight was scarcely

necessary. His son, young Felipe Belvidero, grew up as a Spaniard
as religiously conscientious as his father was irreligious, in

virtue, perhaps, of the old rule, "A miser has a spendthrift
son." The Abbot of San-Lucar was chosen by Don Juan to be the

director of the consciences of the Duchess of Belvidero and her
son Felipe. The ecclesiastic was a holy man, well shaped, and

admirably well proportioned. He had fine dark eyes, a head like
that of Tiberius, worn with fasting, bleached by an ascetic life,

and, like all dwellers in the wilderness, was daily tempted. The
noble lord had hopes, it may be, of despatching yet another monk

before his term of life was out.
But whether because the Abbot was every whit as clever as Don

Juan himself, or Dona Elvira possessed more discretion or more
virtue than Spanish wives are usually credited with, Don Juan was

compelled to spend his declining years beneath his own roof, with
no more scandal under it than if he had been an ancient country

parson. Occasionally he would take wife and son to task for
negligence in the duties of religion, peremptorily insisting that

they should carry out to the letter the obligations imposed upon
the flock by the Court of Rome. Indeed, he was never so well

pleased as when he had set the courtly Abbot discussing some case
of conscience with Dona Elvira and Felipe.

At length, however, despite the prodigious care that the great
magnifico, Don Juan Belvidero, took of himself, the days of

decrepitude came upon him, and with those days the constant
importunity of physical feebleness, an importunity all the more

distressing by contrast with the wealth of memories of his
impetuous youth and the sensual pleasures of middle age. The

unbeliever who in the height of his cynical humor had been wont
to persuade others to believe in laws and principles at which he

scoffed, must reposenightly upon a PERHAPS. The great Duke, the
pattern of good breeding, the champion of many a carouse, the

proud ornament of Courts, the man of genius, the graceful winner
of hearts that he had wrung as carelessly as a peasant twists an

osier withe, was now the victim of a cough, of a ruthless
sciatica, of an unmannerly gout. His teeth gradually deserted

him, as at the end of an evening the fairest and best-dressed
women take their leave one by one till the room is left empty and

desolate. The active hands became palsy-stricken, the shapely
legs tottered as he walked. At last, one night, a stroke of

apoplexy caught him by the throat in its icy clutch. After that
fatal day he grew morose and stern.

He would reproach his wife and son with their devotion, casting
it in their teeth that the affecting and thoughtful care that

they lavished so tenderly upon him was bestowed because they knew
that his money was invested in a life annuity. Then Elvira and

Felipe would shed bitter tears and redouble their caresses, and
the wicked old man's insinuating voice would take an affectionate

tone--"Ah, you will forgive me, will you not, dear friends, dear
wife? I am rather a nuisance. Alas, Lord in heaven, how canst

Thou use me as the instrument by which Thou provest these two
angelic creatures? I who should be the joy of their lives am

become their scourge . . ."
In this manner he kept them tethered to his pillow, blotting out

the memory of whole months of fretfulness and unkindness in one
short hour when he chose to display for them the ever-new

treasures of his pinchbeck tenderness and charm of manner--a
system of paternity that yielded him an infinitely" target="_blank" title="ad.无限地；无穷地">infinitely better return

than his own father's indulgence had formerly gained. At length
his bodily infirmities reached a point when the task of laying

him in bed became as difficult as the navigation of a felucca in
the perils of an intricatechannel. Then came the day of his

death; and this brilliant sceptic, whose mental faculties alone
had survived the most dreadful of all destructions, found himself

between his two special antipathies--the doctor and the
confessor. But he was jovial with them. Did he not see a light

gleaming in the future beyond the veil? The pall that is like
lead for other men was thin and translucent for him; the light-

footed, irresistible delights of youth danced beyond it like
shadows.

It was on a beautiful summer evening that Don Juan felt the near
approach of death. The sky of Spain was serene and cloudless; the

air was full of the scent of orange-blossom; the stars shed
clear, pure gleams of light; nature without seemed to give the

dying man assurance of resurrection; a dutiful and obedient son
sat there watching him with loving and respectful eyes. Towards

eleven o'clock he desired to be left alone with this single-
hearted being.

"Felipe," said the father, in tones so soft and affectionate that
the young man trembled, and tears of gladness came to his eyes;

never had that stern father spoken his name in such a tone.
"Listen, my son," the dying man went on. "I am a great sinner.

All my life long, however, I have thought of my death. I was once
the friend of the great Pope Julius II.; and that illustrious

Pontiff, fearing lest the excessive excitability of my senses
should entangle me in mortal sin between the moment of my death

and the time of my anointing with the holy oil, gave me a flask
that contains a little of the holy water that once issued from

the rock in the wilderness. I have kept the secret of this
squandering of a treasure belonging to Holy Church, but I am

permitted to reveal the mystery in articulo mortis to my son. You
will find the flask in a drawer in that Gothic table that always

stands by the head of the bed. . . . The precious little crystal
flask may be of use yet again for you, dearest Felipe. Will you

swear to me, by your salvation, to carry out my instructions
faithfully?"

Felipe looked at his father, and Don Juan was too deeply learned
in the lore of the human countenance not to die in peace with

that look as his warrant, as his own father had died in despair
at meeting the expression in his son's eyes.

"You deserved to have a better father," Don Juan went on. "I dare
to confess, my child, that while the reverend Abbot of San-Lucar

was administering the Viaticum I was thinking of the
incompatibility of the co-existence of two powers so infinite as

God and the Devil----"
"Oh, father!"

"And I said to myself, when Satan makes his peace he ought surely
to stipulate for the pardon of his followers, or he will be the

veriest scoundrel. The thought haunted me; so I shall go to hell,
my son, unless you carry out my wishes."

"Oh, quick; tell me quickly, father."
"As soon as I have closed my eyes," Don Juan went on, "and that

may be in a few minutes, you must take my body before it grows
cold and lay it on a table in this room. Then put out the lamp;

the light of the stars should be sufficient. Take off my clothes,
reciting Aves and Paters the while, raising your soul to God in

prayer, and carefully anoint my lips and eyes with this holy
water; begin with the face, and proceed successively to my limbs

and the rest of my body; my dear son, the power of God is so
great that you must be astonished at nothing."

Don Juan felt death so near, that he added in a terrible voice,
"Be careful not to drop the flask."