His eyes, rolling wildly, were sunk in their sockets; his neck, weakened by the wound, could not support his head, which fell upon his right shoulder.
His clothes were blood-stained and covered with dirt.

It was evident that in his struggle against death he had dragged himself around the tomb to try, if possible, to escape it.
"Whoever you may be," cried out Geronimo, "for the love of God, one drop of water!" His voice was weak, but capable of moving the hardest heart.
Julio shook his head, without speaking.
"Water! water!" repeated the young man.

"I am burning up, consumed by thirst.

Water! water! one drop of water! Save me from a frightful death!" Moved by pity and forgetting, as it were, his own situation, Julio thrust his hand under his doublet, drew out the bottle, uncorked it, and without speaking gave it to the wounded gentleman.

He uttered a cry of joy, seized the bottle with feverish energy, and kissed with transport the hand which presented him the saving beverage.
Julio, with palpitating heart, watched the unfortunate Geronimo, as with trembling joy he placed the bottle to his lips, as if the contents were imparting to him a new life.
And indeed, after having quaffed a deep draught, Geronimo appeared to have new strength; for a sweet smile appeared upon his face, his eyes sparkled with gratitude, and lifting his hands to Julio, he said: "May God bless you! you have saved me from a frightful death.