“Your Holiness will pardon me,” said the lad; “Dolores brought you a present from the Donna de Solis; the lady sends her humble respects to your Holiness, and requests your acceptance of a large packet of very beautiful chocolate.” “I am much obliged to her,” said the bishop; “did you express to the maiden my thanks?” Luis bowed. “Then, child, you may prepare me a cup of this chocolate, and bring it me at once.” “The Donna de Solis’s chocolate?” “Yes, my son, yes!” When the boy had left the room, the old man clasped his hands with an expression of thankfulness. “They are going to yield! This is a sign that they are desiring reconciliation.” Next day the cathedral was thronged with ladies. The service proceeded as usual, but the bishop was not present. “How is the bishop?” was whispered from one lady to another, with conscious glances; till the query reached the ears of one of the canons who was at the door. “His Holiness is very ill,” he answered. “He has retired to the monastery of St. James.” “What is the matter with him?” “He is suffering from severe pains internally.” “Has he seen a doctor?” “Physicians have been sent for.” For eight days the good old prelate lingered in great suffering. “Tell me,” he asked very feebly; “tell me truly, what is my complaint?” “Your Holiness has been poisoned,” replied the physician. The bishop turned his face to the wall. Some one whispered that he was dead, when he had been thus for some while. The dying man turned his face round, and said: “Hush! I am praying for my poor sheep! May God pardon them.” Then, after a pause: “I forgive them for having caused my death, most heartily. Poor sheep!” And he died. Since then there has been a proverb prevalent in Mexico: “Beware of tasting Chiapa chocolate.” Gage, the Dominican, did not remain long in Chiapa after the death of his patron: he seldom touched chocolate in that town unless quite certain of the friendship of those who offered it to him; and when he did leave, it was from fear of a fate like the bishop’s,--he having incurred the anger of some of the ladies. The cathedral presented the same scene as before; the prelate had laboured in vain, and chocolate was copiously drunk at his funeral. THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE