Julio took the water.
"Thank you, signor; it is useless, the water does me no good."
"Take more, I beg you, Julio,—as much as you can."
Julio obeyed mechanically and nearly emptied the pitcher. His respiration became very labored, and the sweat ran in big drops from his brow.
"Do you feel better, Julio?" asked the young man.
"A little better; the heat is not so burning."
"There is still hope!" exclaimed Geronimo, joyfully. "Take courage, Julio; have confidence in the mercy of God. When all human aid fails us, then God gives his omnipotent assistance."
"But," said Julio, "my heart beats so feebly, my limbs are benumbed.
Signor, I am dying. The poison is killing me."
"Die? Julio! You have delivered me from death, and shall I be powerless to save you? What shall I do? O my God, what can I try?"
"Think no more of it, signor," said the dying man. "I feel that there is no hope. Alas! I was partly the cause of your bitter sufferings: I pushed you into the chair; I intended to kill you, the deliverer of my blind mother! Take pity on me! Let not your just malediction follow my poor soul into eternity. Pardon me, signor, pardon!"