"Julio," said Geronimo, "keep me not in suspense. Say that you will not
take my life. Be merciful to the man whose name is blessed by the lips of
your mother!"
"Fear not, signor; rather than shed one drop of your blood, I would pay
the penalty of my guilty life on the gallows. But I must reflect upon our
peculiar situation, for my mind is not clear; perhaps I may discover a
means of escape. Do not disturb me, I beg you."
He withdrew to the corner of the cellar where he had been previously
seated, and remained motionless for some time, without giving any sign of
the agitation of his mind.
Geronimo regarded him at first with a look of joyful anticipation; by
degrees, however, his face wore an expression of sadness and surprise; it
seemed to him that Julio had fallen asleep. He was mistaken, however, for
Julio arose after a while, and said: "Now I see my way clearly. I will save you, signor; but in doing that, I
might as well avoid securing a halter for myself. You must have patience
until to-morrow. It is now about nine o'clock in the evening, and the
time, I know, will be very long to you. But you must submit to a condition
which is necessary for the preservation of my own life. To-morrow, at
daybreak, I shall quit the city and country. Before leaving, I will set
you at liberty. Do not attempt to shake my resolution; let me go now,
signor, and expect with confidence your deliverance."
Geronimo joined his hands, and said, feebly: "Thanks, thanks, and may the good God show you the mercy you have shown to
me! I have yet a favor to implore, a benefit to ask."
"Speak, signor, what do you wish?"
"It is long since I awoke from my death-like stupor. I know not how long,
and I am tormented by hunger and thirst; you have kept life in me by the
wine so kindly bestowed, but now my body demands nourishment. Give me
bread."
"Bread!" said Julio, "there is not a mouthful of food in the house."
But seeing Geronimo's eyes fixed in supplication upon him, he added: "It is not late; perhaps I may find some shop still open. I will return
presently; remain quiet, and have no anxiety, signor."
He took the lamp, left the cellar, closing the door after him, and
ascended to his room. There folding his arms, he began to muse: "How strange! the young merchant who, at the risk of his own life,
defended my mother from her Moslem master, who paid her ransom, and
liberated her from slavery--that merchant was Geronimo! By some mysterious
influence the amulet protected his heart from the blade of his vindictive
enemy; and when I am about to shed his blood, behold, the amulet paralyzes
my arm. It is incomprehensible!"