"No, Roque, I well know thy fidelity, and I mean not to offend thee; but thou must not refuse the last bequest of thy master: here, take this," he said, delivering a large purse, which the valet could scarcely be prevailed upon to accept. "And here," he continued, taking a ring from his finger, "receive this as a token of remembrance," and as Roque hesitated to take it, he added, smiling, "Take it, for I can now give rings away without danger."
"Thank you, my good master, but have you no pledge of affection, no last remembrance for her?"
"Why," answered Gomez Arias, with affected levity, "she will never forget me. Besides I have nothing worthy of her acceptance—give her my best wishes, and beseech her to pardon me as freely as I forgive her."
Having said this, he wished to turn away, but Roque again interposed, and in a most doleful tone—
"Alack! Don Lope," he said, "remember what I told you at Guadix; my forebodings did not deceive me, for my prognostication has, unfortunately, been but too truly accomplished. Now, had you then—"
"Gently, my good fellow," interrupted Gomez Arias, "gently; this will never do; thou camest here in the humble mood of a sinner, to crave my forgiveness, and now thou hast relapsed into thy former calling by assuming the preacher. In goodness forbear, and leave that task to those who claim it in virtue of their office. And now, my faithful Roque, begone, for I feel drowsy, and an hour's sleep would not come amiss."
Saying this, he bade his servant kindly adieu, and retired to his closet, followed by two guards.
Roque was bewildered, for though he had already had several occasions of forming a just estimation of the character and temper of Gomez Arias, yet he could not comprehend how a man on the eve of death could resign himself to sleep with the ease and composure which his master evinced.
"Virgen Santa!" he ejaculated, "did ever man think of sleep at such a time? Why los siete durmientes[46] would have been at fault at such a pinch. He is going to sleep; the Lord help him! I am sure I cannot sleep; nay, I don't know whether I shall ever sleep again."
Saying this, poor Roque withdrew, weeping and wondering, and imploring the protection of all the saints in the calendar, for his unfortunate master.