A violent struggle between his conscience and his pride took place in Mediana’s breast.
Pride however triumphed.
“Nothing,” replied Don Antonio.
“Nothing!” answered Fabian, “but you do not perhaps know what a terrible duty I have to fulfil?”
“I can imagine it.”
“And I,” cried Fabian passionately, “shall not flinch in accomplishing it. Yet, though my mother’s blood cries out for vengeance, should you refute the charge, I would bless you still. Swear to me then, in the name of Mediana, which we bear in common, by your honour and the salvation of your soul, that you are innocent, and I shall be too happy to believe you.”
Then, oppressed with an intolerable anguish, Fabian awaited his reply.
But, gloomy and inflexible as the fallen archangel, Mediana was silent.
At this moment Diaz advanced towards the judges and the prisoner.
“I have listened,” said he, “with the utmost attention to your accusation again Don Estevan de Arechiza, whom I also know to be the Duke de Armada; may I express my thoughts freely?”