"The smoker, without taking that trouble, stretched out his arm towards the Don, and so effectually that it traversed the river like a bridge, and presented to Don Juan a glowing cigar, which smelt most abominably of sulphur.
"If Don Juan felt something like a rising shudder, he suppressed it, coolly lighted his own cigar at that of the smoker, and went on his way, singing, Los Toros a la puerta."
"But who was the smoker?"
"Who could he be, but the Prince of Darkness in person, who had laid a wager with Pluto that he would frighten Don Juan De Muraña, and went back to his place furious at having lost?
"If you would learn more of Don Juan de Muraña, how he went to his own funeral, and died at last in the odor of sanctity, read that most spirited series of letters, De Paris à Cadix, wherein Alexander Dumas has surpassed himself. And now, Good night!"