The summer passed slowly, one day like another, casting on us the same burden of anxiety and silence.

I spent much of the time in my uncle's library, poring over his books and trying to shake off the melancholy thoughts suggested by my daily life.
One day in early autumn, Rayel was sitting with me near an open window overlooking the courtyard, where his father was enjoying the open air.
"He will die to-day," said Rayel, calmly.

"He told me he would die to-day." "He seems the same as usual," I said.

"We cannot tell; he may live for months yet." Rayel shook his head incredulously, and sat for a long time looking out of the window in silence.
"And I will go with you then ?" he asked suddenly turning toward me.
"Yes," I answered.
It was the first time he had ever asked me a question, for he could read my mind like an open book, and to him all questioning was unnecessary.
While we were sitting there, thinking over our plans, my uncle summoned us by rapping with his cane.

Rayel turned pale, and, with a whispered ejaculation, hurried out of the room and ran down the path to his father, followed closely by myself.