"Amen!" the general said with a laugh, as he rolled a fresh cigarette.
"Do you not consider it extraordinary that, during the whole month we have been here, our friends have not given a sign of life?"
The general shrugged his shoulders carelessly.
"Hum!" he said, "a prisoner is very sick, and our friends doubtless feared to make us worse by the sight of their grief: that is why they have deprived themselves of the pleasure of visiting us."
"Do not jest, general. You accuse them wrongfully, I feel convinced."
"May Heaven grant it! For my part, I heartily forgive them their indifference, and the oblivion in which; they have left us."
"I cannot believe that Don Valentine, that true-hearted and noble-minded man, for whom I ever felt so deep a friendship, has not tried to see me."
"Bah! How, Don Miguel, can you, so near death as you are, still believe in honourable feelings in any man?"
At this moment there was a great clash of iron outside, and the door of the room was opened sufficiently to afford passage to the jailer, who preceded another person. The almost complete obscurity that prevailed in the prison prevented the condemned men from recognising the visitor, who wore a long black gown.
"Eh, eh!" the general muttered in his comrade's ear, "I believe that General Ventura, our amiable governor, has at length made up his mind."