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Updated: June 8, 2025
Leon de Mogente was a sparely-built man, with a white and oddly-rounded forehead. His eyes were dark, and he betrayed scarcely any emotion at the sight of his father in this lamentable plight. "Ah!" said the elder man. "It is you. You look like a monk. Are you one?" "Not yet," answered the pale youth in a low voice with a sort of suppressed exultation.
He was a feeble man the only weak man, it would appear, in the room. "Then stay and pray if you want to," answered Mogente, without even troubling himself to show contempt. The notary was at his table again, and seemed to seek his cue by an upward glance. "You will, perhaps, leave your fortune," he suggested at length, "to to some good work." But Evasio Mon was shaking his head.
Leon de Mogente was absorbed in his own peculiar selfishness which was not of this world but the next. He fell into the mistake common to ecstatic minds that thoughts of Heaven justify a deliberate neglect of obvious duties on earth. "Leon," said Juanita gaily to Cousin Peligros, "will assuredly be a saint some day: he has so little sense of humour."
You wish to leave your money to your son?" "No, no." "Then to your daughter?" And the question seemed to be directed, not towards the bed, but behind it. "To your daughter?" he repeated more confidently. "That is right, is it not? To your daughter?" Mogente nodded his head. "Write it out shortly," he said in a low and distinct voice.
Mogente made a will on his death-bed which was, by the way, witnessed by Leon de Mogente as a supernumerary, not a legal witness just to show that all was square and above board." "Then he left his money ?" "To Juanita. One can only conclude that he was wandering in mind when he did it. For he was fond of her, I think. He had no reason to wish her harm.
She had been informed that Sarrion had found it necessary to take Juanita de Mogente away from the convent school and to assume the cares of that guardianship which had always been an understood obligation mutually binding between himself and Francisco de Mogente.
She was looking straight in front of her. Not far away a bowed figure all curved and cringing with weak emotion a sight to make men pause and think was Leon de Mogente. Behind him, upright with a sleek bowed head, was Evasio Mon. From his position and in the attitude in which he knelt, he could without moving see Juanita, and was probably watching her.
"There is a will in existence which I now cancel. I made it when I was a younger man. I left my fortune to my son Leon de Mogente. To my daughter Juanita de Mogente I left a sufficiency. I wish now to make a will in favour of my son Leon" he paused while the notary's quill pen ran over the paper "on one condition."
Being no notary, this elderly priest wrote out a plain-spoken document, about which there could be no doubt whatever in any court of law in the world, which is probably more than a lawyer could have done. Francisco de Mogente read the paper, and then, propped in the arms of the big friar, he signed his name to it.
They heard the door opening, and the head that came round the door was that of the tall and powerful friar who had come to the assistance of Francisco de Mogente in the Calle San Gregorio. He drew back at once and tried to close the door, but both father and son threw their weight against it and slowly pressed him back, enabling Marcos at length to get his shoulder in.
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