Part 52 (1/2)

”They cannot touch thee now. Not all the malice of men or of fiends can give one pang. A moment since so fearfully in their power; now so completely beyond it! Thank G.o.d! thank G.o.d!”

The rain was over, and ere long the sun arose, in his royal robes of crimson and purple and gold--to the prisoner from the dungeon of the Triana an ever fresh wonder and joy. Yet not even that sight could win his eyes to-day from the deeper beauty of the still and solemn face before him. And as the soft crimson light fell on the pallid cheek and brow, the watcher murmured, with calm thankfulness,--”'To him sun and daylight are as nothing, for he sees the glory of G.o.d.'”

XLV.

Triumphant.

”For ever with the Lord!

Amen! to let it be!”--Montgomery.

Carlos was still sitting beside that couch, with scarcely more sense of time than if he had been already where time exists no longer, when the door of his cell was opened to admit two distinguished visitors. First came the prior; then another member of the Table of the Inquisition.

Carlos rose up from beside his dead, and said calmly, addressing the prior, ”My father is free!”

”How? what is this?” cried Fray Ricardo, his brow contracting with surprise.

Carlos stood aside, allowing him to approach and look. With real concern in his stern countenance, he stooped for a few moments over the motionless form. Then he asked,--

”But why was I not summoned? Who was with him when he departed?”

”I,--his son,” said Carlos.

”But who besides thee?” Then, in a higher key, and with more hurried intonation,--”Who gave him the last rites of the Church?”

”He did not receive them, my lord, for he did not desire them. He said that Christ was his priest; that he would not confess; and that they should not anoint him while he retained consciousness.”

The Dominican's face grew white with anger, even to the lips.

”_Liar!_” he cried, in a voice of thunder. ”How darest thou tell me that he for whom I watched, and prayed, and toiled, after years and years of faithful penance, has gone down at last, unanointed and una.s.soiled, to h.e.l.l with Luther and Calvin?”

”I tell thee that he has gone home in peace to his Father's house.”

”Blasphemer! liar, like thy father the devil! But I understand all now.

Thou, in thy hatred of the Faith, didst refuse to summon help--didst let his spirit pa.s.s without the aid and consolations of the Church.

Murderer of his soul--thy father's soul! Not content even with that, thou canst stand there and slander his memory, bidding us believe that he died in heresy! But that, at least, is false--false as thine own accursed creed!”

”It is true; and you believe it,” said Carlos, in calm, clear, quiet tones, that contrasted strangely with the Dominican's outburst of unwonted rage.

And the prior did believe it--there was the sharpest sting. He knew perfectly well that the condemned heretic was incapable of falsehood: on a matter of fact he would have received his testimony more readily than that of the stately ”Lord Inquisitor” now standing by his side. In the momentary pause that followed, that personage came forward and looked upon the face of the dead.

”If there be really any proof that he died in heresy,” he said, ”he ought to be proceeded against according to the laws of the Holy Office provided for such cases.”

Carlos smiled--smiled in calm triumph.

”You cannot hurt him now,” he said. ”Look there, senor. The King immortal, invisible, has set his own signet upon that brow, that the decree may not be reversed nor the purpose changed concerning him.”

And the peace of the dead face seemed to have pa.s.sed into the living face that had gazed on it so long. Carlos was as really beyond the power of his enemies as his father was that hour. They felt it; or at least one of them did. As for the other, his strong heart was torn with rage and sorrow: sorrow for the penitent, whom he truly loved, and whom he now believed, after all his prayers and efforts, a lost soul; rage against the obstinate heretic, whom he had sought to befriend, and who had repaid his kindness by s.n.a.t.c.hing his convert from his grasp at the very gate of heaven, and plunging him into h.e.l.l.