accompanied, rose above the roar of the storm and penetrated the chamber
of death. Don Juan would gladly have shut out this barbarous confirmation
of his father's words.

Bartholomeo said: "I do not grudge you your pleasure, my child."

These words, full of tenderness, pained Don Juan, who could not forgive
his father for such goodness.

"What, sorrow for me, father!" he cried.

"Poor Juanino," answered the dying man, "I have always been so gentle
toward you that you could not wish for my death?"

"Oh!" cried Don Juan, "if it were possible to preserve your life by giving
you a part of mine!" ("One can always say such things," thought the
spendthrift; "it is as if I offered the world to my mistress.")

The thought had scarcely passed through his mind when the old spaniel
whined. This intelligent voice made Don Juan tremble. He believed that the
dog understood him.

"I knew that I could count on you, my son," said the dying man. "There,
you shall be satisfied. I shall live, but without depriving you of a
single day of your life."

"He raves," said Don Juan to himself.

Then he said, aloud: "Yes, my dearest father, you will indeed live as long
as I do, for your image will be always in my heart."