The Last Lion, and Other Tales

The father was frightened at the trembling of his hands and the agitation of his pulse; he, the son of the huerta, without any other diversion than the hunt, accustomed to shoot down birds almost without aiming at them.

The wailing of the poor mother brought back to his memory other groans of long long ago – twenty-two years before – when she was giving birth to her only son upon that same bed.

To come to such an end!.. His eyes, gazing heavenward, saw a black sky, intensely black, with not a star in sight, and obscured by his tears…

"Lord! To end his sufferings! To end his sufferings!"

And repeating these words he pressed the musket against his shoulder, seeking the lock with a tremulous finger… Bang! Bang!