The night was a year, but toward dawn he slept, rousing when his food was brought. The soldier eyed him indifferently, and departed without salutation. Soon after, two of José’s artificers came in with a pikeman of the guard, inspected the windows, and strengthened the fastenings of the door. Cristoval spoke to one of them, but the guard gruffly forbade a reply, and the prisoner said no more. The day was maddening in its length, monotony, and stillness. Why did not Pedro come? Where was De Soto? Had all friends failed? He must communicate with De Soto concerning the Ñusta, and time might be short. When should he have his trial? These questions came again and again to his tortured mind, but all remained unanswered. They troubled him more now than the thought of death, for with the loss of hope had come the blessed resignation with which the All-wise softens the approach of the inevitable hour, and he was surprised at his own indifference. His one anxiety about it was the question when it would be. He would have interrogated the soldier who brought his food, but the man did not even answer his greeting. Another restless night, and Cristoval rose haggard and savage. Solitude had preyed upon him, and the silence even more. The taciturnity of his guards was infuriating. When the soldier entered with his breakfast he sprang up from the bench with a suddenness that caused the man to drop his burden with a crash of broken stoneware, and draw his dirk as he dashed to the door calling for help. The sentinel burst in and stood with lowered pike while Cristoval glared upon them like a madman. "_Loco!_" whispered the attendant, with a gasp. "_Jesu Cristo!_ let me out!" "Out, then, thou knave!" bellowed Cristoval. "Who holdeth thee? And hearken! When thou comest again, speak!—say something, or by Saint Michael, thou’lt die unshriven! Is this a tomb, that ye varlets must come and go, tiptoeing and mum like undertakers’ help? Pass the time of day, ask me how I like my fare, mention the weather, or blow thy nose; but break this accursed silence if thou wouldst have thy neck unbroken!" The soldier edged toward the door. "We are forbidden to have words with you, Señor Cristoval." "Good! Then say that! Say it over and again! Say it backward; but ware being silent. Dost hear?" "_Muy bien—Adiós_, Señor Cristoval," and the two squeezed themselves out. "Bring more water!" shouted Cristoval, and sat down relieved. The day wore along. When the officers of the guard came at nightfall Cristoval was asleep. Later he was aroused and sat up. A lantern blinded him, but in a moment he recognized Pedro with a shout. He rose and clanked across the room, extending both hands.