"He is better," the Rossignol replied.
"But you feel dull and gloomy, as I felt yesterday; such a cloud came over me then, it seemed as if everything were dark around. You cheered me then, Raphael, it is my turn to cheer you now. I have been forming such golden plans for the future, plans for you as well as for myself;" and in a few rapid sentences Horace described some of the hopes which had been brightening his solitary hours.
Raphael only responded with a sigh so deep-drawn that Horace saw at once that no light trouble, no passing cloud could cast such a shadow on his soul.
"You have heard bad news," cried young Cleveland; "do they regard yourself or—or me?"
Raphael's silence was sufficient reply.
"Tell me the whole truth!" exclaimed Horace.
"Could you bear it?" answered Raphael, slowly turning round, and fixing his large dark eyes upon Horace with a gaze of unutterable sadness.
"Yes; I can bear all, must know all!" exclaimed Horace. His heart was beginning to throb fast, while a sensation of cold crept over him, assuredly not caused by the weather.
"All is said in few words—Otto was hanged this morning."
Prepared as he was for a painful communication, the tidings came upon Horace like a blow. He had been so full of hopeful anticipation, he had had such confidence in the power of his mother's tears, and her gold, that he had little reckoned upon having to suffer anything beyond a seven days' captivity. Now Matteo's horrible threat, that threat which he had not dared to translate to his mother, rose up in his mind like a spectre.