as the world has never seen or heard of;—­one that shall remain an unparalleled example, if not of goodness, at least of singleness of heart.  I desire that a notary be immediately sent for to make my will, wherein I will double Leonora’s jointure, and recommend her, after my death, which will not be long delayed, to marry that young man whom these gray hairs have never offended.  Thus she will see that, as in life I never departed in the slightest particular from what I thought could please her, so I wish her to be happy when I am no more, and to be united to him whom she must love so much.  The rest of my fortune I will bequeath to pious uses, after leaving to you both wherewith to live honourably for the rest of your days.  Let the notary come instantly, for the anguish I am now suffering is such that, if it continues, my time here will be very short.”

Here Carrizales was seized with a terrible swoon, and sank down so close to Leonora that their faces touched.  During this scene the duena stole out of the room, and went to apprize Loaysa of all that had happened.  She advised him to quit the house immediately, and she would take care to keep him informed of all that was going on, for there were no locked doors now to hinder her from sending the negro to him whenever it was necessary.  Astounded at this news, Loaysa took her advice, put on his beggar’s rags again, and went away to make known to his friends the strange issue of his amour.

Leonora’s father, meanwhile, sent for a notary, who arrived soon after both husband and wife had recovered their senses.  Carrizales made his will in the manner he had stated, without saying anything of his wife’s transgressions; he only declared that, for good reasons, he advised, and begged her to marry, should he die, that young man of whom he had spoken to her in private.  When Leonora heard this, she threw herself at her husband’s feet, and cried, while her heart throbbed as if it would burst, “Long may you live, my lord and my only joy; for though you may not believe a word I say, indeed, indeed I have not offended you, except in thought.”

More she would have said, but when she attempted to exculpate herself by a full statement of what had really occurred, her tongue failed her, and she fainted away a second time.  The poor old man embraced her as she lay; so, too, did her parents—­all three weeping bitterly; and even the notary could not refrain from tears.  Carrizales gave the negro and the other slaves their liberty, and left all the servants enough to maintain them; the perfidious Marialonso alone was to have nothing beyond the arrears of her wages.  Seven days afterwards Carrizales was laid in his grave.