The keys--quick, the keys!" "Alas!" said Julio, in a hopeless voice, "my cruel murderer took from me the keys of the door.

We are shut up in the building.

But I cannot die thus, consumed by poison, without confession, without hope of pardon for my soul! Go up-stairs, signor, call aloud, break open the door, wrest the iron bars from the windows.

Collect all your strength, take pity on me and help me!" Geronimo seized the keys, and, lighted by the lamp, he hastily traversed the subterranean passage, and mounted the staircase.
The gray dawn was appearing in the east, but to the eyes of the young man so long accustomed to utter darkness it was almost as bright as noonday.
Convinced that Julio's condition demanded immediate aid, Geronimo hastily tried all the keys in the exterior door, pulled all the bolts, endeavored to wrench the door from the hinges, and worked with so much energy that at last he fell from weakness.
Taking a short rest, he arose, threw up the windows, shook the iron bars, ran up-stairs and called aloud for help.

But all his efforts were useless--the pavilion was too far removed from any habitation to permit him to indulge the hope that his voice, weak as it was, could be heard.
In running through the building--almost maddened by despair--to seek an outlet, he entered the kitchen, where he perceived a vessel full of water.
The sight filled him with joy.