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He could not resolve to look at the spot where he felt the pain;

but, finally gathering courage to do so, he beheld with horror a

hideous tumour of a livid purple.

Don Roderick saw that he was lost. The fear of death took

possession of him, and with it came the apprehension, stronger

perhaps than the dread of death itself, of becoming the prey of

the monatti, and of being thrown into the lazaretto. Endeavouring

to think of some means of avoiding this terrible fate, he

experienced a confusion and obscurity in his ideas which told him

that the moment was fast approaching when he should have no

feeling left but of despair. Seizing the bell, he shook it

violently. Griso, who was on the watch, appeared immediately;

stopping at a distance from the bed, he looked attentively at his

master, and became certain of that which he had only conjectured

the night before.

"Griso," said Don Roderick, with difficulty raising himself in

his bed, "you have always been my favourite."

"Yes, my lord."