This rebuff put an end to the conversation, though it increased the desire of Horace to know more of the mysterious Raphael; for he was now certain that the stranger at the door of the inn was the brother of the bandit Enrico.
At length the long tangled forest was passed, and the way opened on a rocky space, where, by the faint star-light, no longer hidden by foliage, Horace saw a bold, partially-wooded cliff rising before them, a gigantic mass of gloomy shade. Horace had little opportunity, however, of remarking anything but the difficulty of the ascent, as progression here took the character of climbing, which the fetters on his limbs made a terrible effort.
"It is impossible for me to get up, chained as I am!" exclaimed Horace, after having rubbed the skin from one of his ankles, in a vain attempt to raise himself to a platform of rock.
"Impossible!" echoed Enrico, with a short, mocking laugh. "It must be done and the sooner better, or Matteo will be here to quicken your movements with the point of his stiletto."
Once again Horace tried to get up, the moisture dewing his lip and brow, both from the pain and the exertion; but cumbered as he was with his shackles, he could not succeed.
Then Enrico, growing impatient, lent a strong hand to help him. Even with this assistance, it was with the utmost difficulty that the suffering youth reached the platform. He stopped for some moments to recover his breath, and to wipe his heated temples.
"Could you find your way back?" said Enrico.
"The woods seem to me to be a perfect labyrinth."
"Then there is no chance of your attempting an escape?"
"I fear that I have more will than power to escape," replied the young captive with a sigh.