The prelate related Tito’s prophecy to various persons, and all eyes were at once fixed upon the Countess, who actually began to grow deathly pale.
Meanwhile Tito approached Elena, who was standing in the middle of the room, silent and immovable as a statue; charmed, overcome, possessed of a terror and of a happiness that she could not herself define, she followed every movement of the friend of her childhood.
“Elena!” murmured the youth, as he reached her side.
“Tito!” she answered, mechanically, “is it indeed you?”
“Yes,” replied Tito, fondly, “’tis I; fear nothing.” And he left the apartment.
The Captain was awaiting him in the antechamber.
Tito wrote some words on paper, and said to Philip’s faithful retainer: “Take this to the Granja. Do not lose a moment.”
“And you,” replied the Captain, “I cannot leave you. You are a prisoner in my custody.”
“I place myself on parole,” proudly replied Tito, “for I cannot follow you.”