"Brother, I also have struggled and suffered. I also have doubted."
"Oh yes, a Churchman's doubts! You had only to tell yourself doubt was a sin, to make the sign of the cross, to say an Ave or two, then there was an end of your doubts. 'Twere a different matter if you had the evil one in the shape of an angel of light--at least in that of a courteous, well-bred Huguenot gentleman, with as nice a sense of honour as any Catholic Christian--at your side continually, to whisper that the priests are no better than they ought to be, that the Church needs reform; and Heaven knows what more, and worse, beside.--Now, my pious brother, if thou art going to curse me with bell, book, and candle, begin at once. I am ready, and prepared to be duly penitent. Let me first put on my cap though, for it is cold," and he suited the action to the word.
The voice in which Carlos answered him was low and tremulous with emotion. "Instead of cursing thee, brother beloved, I bless thee from my heart for words which give me courage to speak. I have doubted--nay, why should I shrink from the truth! I have learned, as I believe, from God himself, that some things which the Church teaches as her doctrines are only the commandments of men."
Don Juan started, and his colour changed. His vaguely liberal ideas were far from having prepared him for this. "What do you mean?" he cried, staring at his brother in amazement.
"That I am now, in very truth, what I think you would call--a Huguenot."
The die was cast. The avowal was made. Carlos waited its effects in breathless silence, as one who has fired a powder magazine might await the explosion.
"May all the holy saints have mercy upon us!" cried Juan, in a voice that echoed through the grove. But after that one involuntary cry he was silent. The eyes of Carlos sought his face, but he turned away from him. At last he muttered, striking with his sword at the trunk of a tree that was near him, "Huguenot--Protestant--heretic!"
"Brother," said Carlos, rising and standing before him--"brother, say what thou wilt, only speak to me. Reproach me, curse me, strike me, if it please thee, only speak to me."
Juan turned, gazed full in his imploring face, and slowly, very slowly, allowed the sword to fall from his hand. There was a moment of doubt, of hesitation. Then he stretched out that hand to his brother. "They who list may curse thee, but not I," he said.
Carlos strained the offered hand in so close a grasp that his own was cut by his brother's diamond ring, and the blood flowed.