The minister of God comes out of the room. A sweet calm has spread itself over the face of the reconciled. The surgeon enters, probes the wound, and turns silently with a sad movement of his head toward those who are standing by. Pedro awaiting, with hands convulsively clasped, the sentence of the man of science, falls to the floor, and they carry him away.
"Sir magistrate," the surgeon says, "he is not capable of making a declaration, he is dying."
These words rouse Ventura. With that energy which is natural to him, he opens his eyes and says distinctly: "Ask, for I can still answer."
The scribe prepares his materials and the magistrate asks:
"What has been the cause of your death?"
"I myself," distinctly replied Ventura.
"Who shot you?"
"One whom I have forgiven."
"You then forgive your murderer?"
"Before God and man."