rchbishop Pablo to supper.

'My brother,' said he, to his guest, 'I have lately received from
Cordova a wine which I desire you to taste. It is very highly prized in
Africa, whence I am told it comes, and it is made with curious art and
labour.'

Glass cups were brought, and the wine poured in. The archbishop was a
connoisseur, and held it between the light and himself, admiring the
sparkling clearness, and then inhaled the odour.

'It is nectar,' he said.

At last he sipped it.

'The flavour is very strange.'

He drank deeply. Don Sebastian looked at him and smiled as his brother
put down the empty glass. But when he was himself about to drink, the
cup fell between his hands and the steward's, breaking into a hundred
fragments, and the wine spilt on the floor.

'Fool!' cried Don Sebastian, and in his anger struck the servant.

But being a man of peace, the archbishop interposed.

'Do not be angry with him; it was an accident. There is more wine in the
flagon.'

'No, I will not drink it,' said Don Sebastian, wrathfully. 'I will drink
no more to-night.'

The archbishop shrugged his shoulders.

When they were alone, Don Sebastian made a strange request.

'My brother, it is a year to-day that Sodina was buried, and I have not
entered her room since then. But now I have a desire to see it. Will you
come with me?'

The archbishop consented, and together they crossed the long corridor
that led to Dona Sodina's apartment, preceded by a boy with lights.

Don Sebastian unlocked the door, and, taking the taper from the page's
hand, entered. The archbishop followed. The air was chill and musty, and
even now an odour of recent death seemed to pervade the room.

Don Sebastian went to a casket, and from it took a breviary. He saw his
brother start as his eye fell on it. He turned over the leaves till he
came to a page on which was the archbishop's handwriting, and handed it
to him.

'Oh God!' exclaimed the priest, and looked quickly at the door. Don
Sebastian was standing in front of it. He opened his mouth to cry out,
but Don Sebastian interrupted him.

'Do not be afraid! I will not touch you.'

For a while they looked at one another silently; one pale, sweating with
terror, the other calm and grave as usual. At last Don Sebastian spoke,
hoarsely.

'Did she--did she love you?'

'Oh, my brother, forgive her. It was long ago--and she repented
bitterly. And I--I!'

'I have forgiven you.'

The words were