"Then come!" Elias followed him, and they penetrated into a kind of cave sunk down in the depths of the earth.

The guide, who seemed to be familiar with the way, warned the pilot when he should descend or turn aside or stoop down, so they were not long in reaching a kind of hall which was poorly lighted by pitch torches and occupied by twelve to fifteen armed men with dirty faces and soiled clothing, some seated and some lying down as they talked fitfully to one another.

Resting his arms on a stone that served for a table and gazing thoughtfully at the torches, which gave out so little light for so much smoke, was seen an old, sad-featured man with his head wrapped in a bloody bandage.

Did we not know that it was a den of tulisanes we might have said, on reading the look of desperation in the old man's face, that it was the Tower of Hunger on the eve before Ugolino devoured his sons.
Upon the arrival of Elias and his guide the figures partly rose, but at a signal from the latter they settled back again, satisfying themselves with the observation that the newcomer was unarmed.

The old man turned his head slowly and saw the quiet figure of Elias, who stood uncovered, gazing at him with sad interest.
"It's you at last," murmured the old man, his gaze lighting up somewhat as he recognized the youth.
"In what condition do I find you!" exclaimed the youth in a suppressed tone, shaking his head.
The old man dropped his head in silence and made a sign to the others, who arose and withdrew, first taking the measure of the pilot's muscles and stature with a glance.
"Yes!" said the old man to Elias as soon as they were alone.