vaguely, but showing its stiff, bony thinness. The face already had large
purple spots, which showed the urgency of completing the embalming.
Despite the skepticism with which Don Juan was armed, he trembled as he
uncorked the magic phial of crystal. When he stood close to the head he
shook so that he was obliged to pause for a moment. But this young man had
allowed himself to be corrupted by the customs of a dissolute court. An
idea worthy of the Duke of Urbino came to him, and gave him a courage
which was spurred on by lively curiosity. It seemed as if the demon had
whispered the words which resounded in his heart: "Bathe an eye!" He took
a piece of linen and, after having moistened it sparingly with the
precious liquid, he passed it gently over the right eyelid of the corpse.
The eye opened!

"Ah!" said Don Juan, gripping the flask in his hand as we clutch in our
dreams the branch by which we are suspended over a precipice.

He saw an eye full of life, a child's eye in a death's head, the liquid
eye of youth, in which the light trembled. Protected by beautiful black
lashes, it scintillated like one of those solitary lights which travelers
see in lonely places on winter evenings. It seemed as if the glowing eye
would pierce Don Juan. It thought, accused, condemned, threatened, judged,
spoke--it cried, it snapped at him! There was the most tender
supplication, a royal anger, then the love of a young girl imploring mercy
of her executioners. Finally, the awful look that a man casts upon his
fellow-men on his way to the scaffold. So much life shone in this fragment
of life that Don Juan recoiled in terror. He walked up and down the room,
not daring to look at the eye, which stared back at him from the ceiling
and from the hangings. The room was sown with points full of fire, of
life, of intelligence. Everywhere gleamed eyes which shrieked at him.