"Are you going to listen to me?" cried the dying man, gnashing his toothless jaws.
Don Juan held his peace. A horrible silence reigned. Through the dull wail of the snowstorm came again the melody of the viol and the heavenly voice, faint as the dawning day.
The dying man smiled.
"I thank you for having brought singers and music! A banquet, young and beautiful women, with dark locks, all the pleasures of life. Let them remain. I am about to be born again."
"The delirium is at its height," said Don Juan to himself.
"I have discovered a means of resuscitation. There, look in the drawer of the table—you open it by pressing a hidden spring near the griffin."
"I have it, father."
"Good! Now take out a little flask of rock crystal."
"Here it is."
"I have spent twenty years in——"
At thi
