lved to leave behind
him a declaration of the cause of his strange end. He began to write, but
before he had put down all he meant to say, his breath failed him and he
yielded up his life, a victim to the suffering which his ill-advised
curiosity had entailed upon him. The master of the house observing that
it was now late and that Anselmo did not call, determined to go in and
ascertain if his indisposition was increasing, and found him lying on his
face, his body partly in the bed, partly on the writing-table, on which
he lay with the written paper open and the pen still in his hand. Having
first called to him without receiving any answer, his host approached
him, and taking him by the hand, found that it was cold, and saw that he
was dead. Greatly surprised and distressed he summoned the household to
witness the sad fate which had befallen Anselmo; and then he read the
paper, the handwriting of which he recognised as his, and which contained
these words:

"A foolish and ill-advised desire has robbed me of life. If the news of
my death should reach the ears of Camilla, let her know that I forgive
her, for she was not bound to perform miracles, nor ought I to have
required her to perform them; and since I have been the author of my own
dishonour, there is no reason why-"

So far Anselmo had written, and thus it was plain that at this point,
before he could finish what he had to say, his life came to an end. The
next day his friend sent intelligence of his death to his relatives, who
had already ascertained his misfortune, as well as the convent where
Camilla lay almost on the point of accompanying her husband on that
inevitable journey, not on account of the tidings of his death, but
because of those she received of her lover's departure. Although she saw
herself a widow, it is said she refused either to quit the convent or
take the veil, until, not long afterwards, intelligence reached her that
Lothario had been killed in a battle in which M. de Lautrec had been
recently engaged with the Great Captain Gonzalo Fernandez de Cordova in
the kingdom of Naples, whither her too late repentant lover had repaired.
On learning this Camilla took the veil, and shortly afterwards died, worn
out by grief and melancholy. This was the end of all three, an end that
came of a thoughtless beginning.

"I like this novel," said the curate; "but I cannot persuade myself of
its truth; and if it has been invented, the author's invention is