You have cut off my dearly loved brother in the flower of his youth, but you shall not die believing that I bear you any malice.

So far as I am able, I freely forgive you for what you have done, and in token I give you my hand, that you may have that comfort at the last." With incredible calmness Philip took Mendoza's hand as he spoke, held it for a moment in his, and pressed it almost warmly at the last words.

The old man's loyalty to his sovereign had been a devotion almost amounting to real adoration, and bitterly as he had suffered throughout the terrible interview, he well-nigh forgot every suffering as he felt the pressure of the royal fingers.

In an instant he had told himself that it had all been but a play, necessary to deceive Perez, and to clear the King from suspicion before the world, and that in this sense the unbearable agony he had borne had served his sovereign.

He forgot all for a moment, and bending his iron-grey head, he kissed the thin and yellow hand fervently, and looked up to Philip's cold face and felt that there were tears of gratitude in his own eyes, of gratitude at being allowed to leave the world he hated with the certainty that his death was to serve his sovereign idol.
"I shall be faithful to your Majesty until the end," he said simply, as the King withdrew his fingers, and he rose to his feet.
The King nodded slowly, and his stony look watched Mendoza with a sort of fixed curiosity.