Raphael knitted his brows, and shook his head sadly in reply.
"It would be a noble deed—it would be to rescue a fellow-creature from danger—"
"And to deliver my only brother to death," interrupted Raphael, pointing to the sleeper at his side.
"Matteo would never—"
"Matteo has vowed that Enrico shall answer for your safe keeping with his life: Matteo never breaks such a vow," said Raphael, speaking in imperfect English.
"But he cannot be such a ruffian as to murder his own follower," pursued Horace, who was unwilling to let go his only hope of escape.
"He would do it—nor would it be for the first time," said Raphael, his face darkening with some recollection of horror; "it was not by the hand of soldier or executioner that Carlo perished in the wood!"
Horace felt the blood run cold in his veins, yet his intense desire for freedom made him once more return to the subject. "If Matteo be so merciless," he said, "how dared you provoke his anger last night?"
"I had my message to give, and I gave it," replied the improvisatore; "he who builds on the brink of a volcano does so with the knowledge that the lava may one day overflow. Yet do I stand on vantage ground, and Matteo would bear from me what he would bear from no one beside."
"Why so?" inquired young Cleveland.