"Then there is hope for you yet, brave Englishman!" cried the officer; and without uttering another word, he hastened back to the spot where the Captain-General of Abrantani was standing.
Were we to say that Richard was now otherwise than a prey to the most profound suspense, we should be exaggerating the moral strength of human nature.
We have no wish to make of our hero a demigod: we allow him to be nothing more than mortal after all!
It was, therefore, with no little anxiety that Markham saw the officer approach the Captain-General of Abrantani, and discourse with him for some moments in a low tone. The aide-de-camp appeared to urge some point which he was anxious to carry: Count Santa-Croce shook his head ominously.
"Beloved Isabella," murmured Richard to himself: "shall I never see thee more?"
His eyes were still fixed upon those two men who appeared to be arguing his life or death.
At length the Captain-General took a paper from the breast of his profusely-laced blue uniform coat, and cast his eyes over it.
Richard watched him with breathless anxiety.
This state of suspense did not last long. Count Santa-Croce folded the paper, replaced it where he had taken it from, and then gave a brief command to the officer.
The latter hurried back to the spot where Markham was hovering as it were between life and death.