the presence of Empecinado. The latter pierced him through
and through with his glance of fire, and at length spoke to him, in a
tone of the most appalling calmness. "Antonio," he said, "you are in
league with the enemy. You have several times had interviews with
Souchet, at unusual hours. You endeavoured to hand over, by treachery,
our Place d'Armes at Cuenca."--"It is so," answered Antonio, with a
terrible sigh, not raising his bowed-down head. "Is it possible," cried
Empecinado, breaking out into the wildest anger, "is it possible that
you are a Spaniard--that the blood of your ancestors runs in your
veins? Was not your mother Virtue personified? Would not the slightest
suspicion that she was capable of betraying the honour of her house be
an atrocious outrage? But for this I should believe you to be a bastard
sprung from the most despicable race on earth. You have merited death.
Prepare yourself to die."

Antonio threw himself at Empecinado's feet in anguish and despair,
crying, "Uncle! uncle! do you not know that all the furies of hell are
rending my breast. There are times--often--when the subtlety of Satan
can bring anything to pass. Yes, uncle, I am a Spaniard. Let me prove
it. Be merciful. Grant that I may blot out the disgrace which the most
abominable arts of hell have brought upon me--that I may appear to you
and to the Brethren purified from my offence. You understand me, uncle?
You know the reason of my so imploring you!"

Empecinado seemed somewhat moved by the young man's entreaties. He
raised him, and said gently, "Your repentance is sincere. You are right
in saying that the cunning of Satan is able to accomplish much. I know
the reason of your entreaty. I pardon you. Son of my dear sister, come
to my heart!" Empecinado with his own hands untied his bonds, embraced
him, and at once handed to him the dagger from his own girdle. "My
thanks," the young man cried. He kissed Empecinado's hands, bedewing
them with his tears, then he raised his eyes to heaven in prayer, and
drove the dagger deep into his heart, falling dead without a sound.

This occurrence so shook the invalid Edgar that he nearly fainted.
Father Eusebio took him back to his chamber.

Some weeks afterwards Don Rafaele Marchez considered that it was safe
for him to liberate his friend from the prison in which he could not
recover his health. He took him, in the night, up to a room which had
windows looking out upon an unfrequented street,