“Oh!”
“Calm thyself; all can be arranged. Thy father had in his possession, a declaration of Crispina Lopez and Juan Gil, a duly certified authority, which stated clearly that thou wert the natural son of the Count of Rionuevo and Crispina Lopez. This same circumstance thy father confessed at the hour of his death, before a priest and a notary, whom I saw there and whom I know perfectly well. Certainly the priest ... but hold! this I cannot tell thee. The fact is, the Count named thee his sole and only heir; which was all the easier, as he had not a single relative, near or remote. Nor did that good father’s solicitude rest here. He commenced the foundation of thy future happiness on the very brink of the grave.”
“Oh! my father!” murmured Tito.
“Listen. Thou knowest the great friendship which united the honored Count and the Duke of Monteclaro for so many years. They were companions in arms during the War of Succession.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Well, then,” continued Death, “thy father, divining the love thou felt’st for the charming Elena, addressed a long and tender letter to the Duke, a few moments before he expired, in which he told him all, asking the hand of his daughter for thee, and reminding him of the many and signal proofs of friendship that had passed between them.”
“And that letter?” asked Tito, vehemently.
“That letter alone would have convinced the Duke, and thou would’st have been his son many years ago.”
“What has become of it?” again asked Tito, tremulous with love and anger.
“That letter might have prevented thee from entering into relations with me,” continued Death.