"A bright idea has struck me," suddenly exclaimed Don Guzman; "let us have one last game of chess!" "The thought is too profane," said the startled Ruy Lopez. "If you refuse me this last request, I will summon the executioner on the instant; for how, think you, can I endure the two hours of suspense that have yet to be undergone? To meet death is easy--to await it is intolerable! Are you as changed as my fortunes? Care you neither for me nor for chess?" The bishop again objected, but it was now faintly and hesitatingly. To say the truth, the ruling passion, thus proved to be indeed strong in death, was nearly as powerful in his own mind. "You consent, I see," said the young nobleman; "but what shall we do for chessmen?" "I always carry my arms about me," said Ruy Lopez, now completely won over. Then, drawing two stools to the table, he produced a miniature set of chessmen and a small board. "Our Lady pardon me," he said, as he proceeded to arrange the pieces; "but I own to you that sometimes a difficult move comes between me and my breviary." It was a curious picture to see the priest and the condemned man seated at a game, so strange in their position! The light rested on the pale and noble countenance of Don Guzman, and fell slantingly through the Gothic window on the benevolent face of Ruy Lopez, from which he had often to brush away the tear of irrepressible emotion. What wonder, then, that he played with a distraction which was not usual, and with little of his wonted skill and power. Don Guzman, on the contrary, as if stimulated by the excitement he was laboring under, played with extraordinary address. He seemed wholly engrossed by the game, and as much abstracted from all surrounding and impending circumstances, as if the executioner had already done his work; and the victory would soon have been decided in his favor, had not the old passion suddenly revived in Ruy Lopez, on seeing the near prospect of defeat, and roused him into putting forth all his wonted skill, and he was soon as fully absorbed in the game as his friend. And the chessboard was now to both the universe. Happy illusion, could it but last! And now the minutes become quarters, the quarters half-hours, and the fatal moment arrives. A distant sound is heard--it becomes louder and louder--a step approaches--it draws nearer and nearer. The door grates on its hinges, and the executioner, with all his grim paraphernalia, enters to arouse them to the stern and terrible reality.