"The time was short—short indeed. Yet, why should you fear? Your confession has been made! I myself have pronounced your absolution; the holy Church has granted to you her most holy sacrament."
"Fear! Bah! I have no fear! It is a matter of calculation. Shall I see morning break?"
"You may; but you will never see the mid-day sun."
The dying man raised himself with a slow, painful movement, and pointed to the window.
"Throw up the window."
He was obeyed. A servant who had been sitting quietly in the shadows of the vast apartment, with his head buried in his hands, rose and did his master's bidding.
"What hour is it?"
"Three o'clock."
"Gomez, strain your eyes seaward. Is there no light on the horizon?"