uch a look, as his father had died in despair at his own expression.

"You deserve a different father," continued Don Juan. "I must acknowledge
that when the estimable Abbot of San Lucas was administering the viaticum'
I was thinking of the incompatibility of two so wide-spreading powers as
that of the devil and that of God."

"Oh, father!"

"And I said to myself that when Satan makes his peace he will be a great
idiot if he does not bargain for the pardon of his followers. This thought
haunted me. So, my child, I shall go to hell if you do not carry out my
wishes."

"Oh, tell them to me at once, father!"

"As soon as I have closed my eyes," replied Don Juan, "and that may be in
a few minutes, you must take my body, still warm, and lay it on a table in
the middle of the room. Then put out the lamp--the light of the stars will
be sufficient. You must take off my clothes, and while you recite 'Paters'
and 'Aves' and uplift your soul to God, you must moisten my eyes, my lips,
all my head first, and then my body, with this holy water. But, my dear
son, the power of God is great. You must not be astonished at anything."

At this point Don Juan, feeling the approach of death, added in a terrible
voice: "Be careful of the flask!"

Then he died gently in the arms of his son, whose tears fell upon his
ironical and sallow face.

It was nearly midnight when Don Philippe Belvidero placed his father's
corpse on the table. After kissing the stern forehead and the gray hair he
put out the lamp. The soft rays of the moonlight which cast fantastic
reflections over the scenery allowed the pious Philippe to discern his
father's body dimly, as something white in the midst of the darkness. The
young man moistened a cloth in the liquid and then, deep in prayer, he
faithfully anointed the revered head. The silence was intense. Then he
heard indescribable rustlings, but he attributed them to the wind among
the tree-tops. When he had bathed the right arm he felt himself rudely
seized at the back of the neck by an arm, young and vigorous--the arm of
his father! He gave a piercing cry, and dropped the phial, which fell on
the floor and broke. The liquid flowed out.

The whole household rushed in, bearing torches. The cry had aroused and
frightened them as if the trumpet of the last judgment had shaken the
world. The room was crowded with people. The trembling throng saw Don
Philippe, fainting, but held up by the powerful arm of his fathe