Don Fabricio would have replied; but the surgeon, fearing that in his case, as in trouble generally, talking would only increase the ill, imposed silence, while he examined his wound. On so doing, he saw that it was likely to prove mortal, as the sword had penetrated the lungs, and the consequent loss of blood had been excessive. Having however dressed it with care, he left the cavaliers to repose; and that a matter so essential to them, in their present state, might be secured, he took with him, as he left the cabin, Donna Theodora, whose presence seemed likely to disturb it. But despite all these precautions, Mendoza was seized with fever, and towards midnight the wound began to bleed afresh. The renegade then thought it right to inform him that all hope of recovery was over, and that, if he had anything which he wished to communicate to his friend, or to Donna Theodora, he had no time to lose. The Toledan was greatly affected on hearing the declaration of the surgeon: for Don Fabricio, he listened to it with indifference. He calmly requested that the regenade would summon the widow of Cifuentes to his side. Donna Theodora hastened to the dying man, in a state more easy to conceive than to describe: tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs choked her utterance;--so violent was her affliction, that Mendoza could not repress his agitation at the sight. "Madam," he exclaimed, "I am unworthy of the precious drops which dim those lovely eyes: restrain them, I entreat you, and listen to me for a few moments. And you also, my dear Zarata," he continued, observing the excess of grief in which his friend indulged, "control your feelings for a while, and hear me. I well know that to you this separation is a painful shock; your friendship is too well assured for me to doubt it; but wait, both of you, until the earth shall have hidden me from your sight; and honour, with those marks of tenderness and pity, my silent grave. "Suspend until then your affliction; I feel it now more than the loss of life. Let me relate to you the way by which the fate that pursues me conducted me this night to the fatal shore which I have stained with the blood of my friend, and my own. You must be anxious to learn how it happened that I mistook Don Juan for Alvaro; I will tell you, if the short time which it is permitted me to live will enable me to do so.