The assistants of Calavarez, armed with swords and bearing torches, advanced, carrying a block covered with black cloth, the use of which was evident enough from the ax which lay upon it. They placed their torches in their sockets, and strewed sawdust upon the ground. All this took but a few seconds, and they stood awaiting their victim. On the appearance of Calavarez, Ruy Lopez started from his seat, but the duke moved not; he remained with his eyes fixed on the chessboard, paying no attention either to the men or their fatal preparations.
It was his turn to move.
Calavarez, seeing the duke thus fixed and motionless, laid his hand upon his shoulder, and uttered one word—only one—but in that word was the destruction of a young life, with all its memories and all its earthly hopes. That word was “Come!”
The prisoner started, as though he had trod upon a serpent; then, recovering himself, said imperiously, “I must finish my game.”
“Impossible,” replied Calavarez.
“Possible, or not possible, I must see my game out. I have all but checkmated him. Unhand me! Come on, Ruy Lopez.”
“Impossible,” repeated the executioner.
“Are the three hours then out?”
“To the very second. The king must be obeyed.”
The attendants, who had stood leaning on their swords, now advanced.