CHAPTER XI.
FOOD AT LAST--DEATH OF JULIO.
When Julio left the cellar for the purpose of procuring bread, Geronimo cast himself on his knees, full of gratitude to God, to return thanks for the unexpected deliverance.
Julio had said "soon," but an hour passed, then another, then many more, and he came not.
A painful doubt began to take possession of Geronimo's mind.

Had an accident happened to Julio?
Had he perhaps cruelly abandoned his victim?
Had he set out for Germany with the certainty that hunger would kill him whom the dagger had spared?
The unfortunate cavalier had no means of measuring the flight of time.
What in the immutable darkness of his prison seemed to him a century, might in reality be only a few hours, and the promised bread would soon appear to his eyes as the star of safety--in a quarter of an hour, in a minute--that very instant.
By such reflections Geronimo sought to endure patiently the pangs of hunger.

He put his ear to the keyhole and ceased breathing that he might catch the slightest sound.

Alas! hour after hour passed in unbroken silence.

Although Geronimo knew not whether it was day or night, his increasing sufferings were to him a sure indication of the passage of time.