"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 unassoiled, to hell 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 pass 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.