There are, as in chess, kings, knights, soldiers, bishops, according to their birth, fate and fortune; and when the game is over death lays them all as equals in the tomb, even as we gather together the chessmen into a box."

"Yes, I remember those words of Don Quixote," replied Don Lopez, astonished at this singular conversation, "and I remember also Sancho's reply: 'That however good the comparison was, it was not so new that he had not heard it before.'"

"I was your favourite pupil, even your rival," said the Duke, without appearing to hear Don Lopez.

"It is true," cried the Bishop. "You are a great master of the game, and I have been often proud of having such a pupil. But now, on your knees, my son."

They knelt down together, and there before the crucifix Don Gusman made confession to Ruy Lopez, who as he listened could hardly restrain his tears.

When the Duke had finished, two hours after—for the confession under the Church seal was long and touching—the Bishop blessed the prisoner, and gave him absolution. The face of Don Gusman, as he rose, was calm and resigned.

"THEY KNELT DOWN TOGETHER."

But there remained still an hour to wait.

"This delay is torture," cried the Duke. "Why do they not cut off the prisoners at once, instead of stretching their souls upon such a rack of agony? An eternity of suffering is in each of these minutes." And the prisoner began to walk impatiently to and fro, with his eyes constantly bent upon the door. The Duke's firmness was shaken by the thought of that weary hour of waiting. Ruy Lopez had fulfilled his duty. The prisoner's soul was purified, and now the priest could become the friend.

As Don Lopez heard Don Gusman utter this exclamation, and saw his face grow white, he understood what agony he was undergoing, and felt at once that something must be done to divert his thoughts. But in vain he racked his brain for an idea. He could think of nothing. What could he propose to a man about to die? For such as he, the flower has no longer perfume, woman has no longer beauty. Then suddenly a thought flashed across his brain.

"How would a game of chess—" he began, timidly.

"An excellent idea!" cried Don Gusman, recalled to himself by this singular proposal. "A farewell game of chess."

"You consent?"

"Most readily; but where are the chessmen, my friend?"

"Am I not always provided with the instruments of war?" said Ruy Lopez, smiling. Then he pulled forward the two stools and set out upon the table a microscopic set of chessmen. "Our Lady pardon me!" he continued. "I often pass my spare time in the confessional in working out some problem."

The chessmen being set out, the players took their seats, and were soon absorbed in the excitement of the game.

This strange contest, between a priest and a condemned prisoner, made a picture worthy of the brush of Rembrandt or Salvator Rosa. The light which streamed from the arched windows fell upon the pale, noble features of Don Gusman, and upon the venerable head of Ruy Lopez.

The emotions of the two players were very different. Ruy Lopez played with a preoccupation which was not usual to him, and which rendered him much inferior to his ordinary strength. Don Gusman, on the contrary, stimulated by excitement, played with more than his ordinary skill. At this moment his noble Castilian blood did not fail him, for never had the Duke given better proof of the clearness of his mind. Such a flash of intellect must be compared to the last flickers of the failing lamp, or to the last song of the dying swan.

Don Gusman suddenly attacked his adversary with an impetuosity which nearly gained him a certain victory; but Ruy Lopez, recalled to himself by this vigorous effort, defended himself bravely. The game became more and more complicated. The Bishop strove to gain a mate which he saw, or believed he saw, at hand, whilst Don Gusman played with the eagerness of certain victory. Everything was forgotten, and time passed unnoticed. The chess-board was their universe, and a life of anxiety was in each move.

The minutes, the quarters, the half-hours flew by, and the fatal hour arrived at last.

A distant sound struck on their ears; it grew nearer, it increased, and the door swinging open gave admittance to Calavar and his assistants, who advanced into the cell with torches in their hands. They were armed with swords, and two of them bore the block, covered with a black cloth, on which lay an axe.

"THE GAME BECAME MORE AND MORE COMPLICATED."

The torches were placed in the receptacle prepared for them, whilst one of the men scattered cedar sawdust on the floor. All this was the work of a moment, while the executioner stood waiting for the prisoner.

As Calavar entered, Ruy Lopez started to his feet, in a tremor of alarm, but the Duke did not move. His eyes were fixed upon the chess-board. It was his turn to play. Calavar, seeing his abstracted gaze, advanced to the Duke's side and placed his hand upon his shoulder.

"Come," he said.

The prisoner shuddered as if he had trodden upon a serpent.

"I must finish this game," he said, imperiously.

"It is impossible," Calavar replied.

"But, fellow, the game is mine! I can force mate in a few moves. Let me play it out."

"I cannot. It is impossible," repeated the executioner.

"Are the three hours gone already?"

"The last stroke has just struck. We must obey the King."

The assistants, who had until then stood leaning on their swords, came forward at these words.

The Duke was sitting against the wall, under the high window, with the table between him and Calavar. He started to his feet.

"I shall not move until the game is over. In half an hour my head shall be at your disposal."

"My lord," replied Calavar, "I respect you deeply, but I cannot grant you this request. I answer for your life with mine."

Don Gusman made a gesture of impatience, and pulling off his diamond rings, he threw them at the executioner's feet. "I mean to finish the game," he said, carelessly.

The jewels sparkled as they rolled and settled in the dust.

"My orders are imperative," cried Calavar, "and you must pardon us, noble Duke, if we have to use force; but the King's orders and the law of Spain must be carried out. Obey, then, and do not waste your last moments in a useless struggle. Speak to the Duke, my lord Bishop. Tell him to submit to his fate."

Ruy Lopez's reply was as prompt as it was decisive. He seized the axe which lay upon the block and swung it with both hands above his head.

"By Heaven!" he cried, "the Duke shall finish his game!"

Scared by the gesture which accompanied these words, Calavar drew back in such a fright that he stumbled and fell back on his companions. The swords flashed from their scabbards, and the band prepared for attack. But Ruy Lopez, who appeared to have put forth the strength of a Hercules, cast upon the ground his heavy wooden stool.

"The first of you who passes this limit dies!" he cried in a loud voice. "Courage, Duke!—to the attack! There are only four of these miscreants. The last desire of your Grace shall be gratified, were I to lose my life in the attempt. And you, wretched man, beware how you lay a finger upon a Bishop of the Church. Down with your swords and respect the Lord's anointed!" And Ruy Lopez continued to hurl forth, in a jargon