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.”