think his isolation
could have lasted much longer, for he became restless and eager to see
the world.

Rayel was greatly depressed by his father's illness. For months after
that night, the excitement of which had so hastened the failure of the
old man's strength, the silence of the great house was rarely broken by
the sound of our voices. My uncle lay helpless in a deep sleep most of
the time, never able to leave his bed until, revived by the freshness
of approaching summer, he had strength enough to sit in an easy-chair by
the window. Some fatal malady, the nature of which he did not disclose
to me, was evidently sapping his strength. I had urged him more than
once to let me summon a physician, but he would not permit me to do
so. When summer came at last, he grew stronger, and was able to walk,
supported by Rayel, to his chair in the open courtyard among the
flowers.

The lion, which had been confined in its cage most of the time since my
uncle had grown so feeble as to need Rayel's constant attention sickened
and died in the warm days of early June. Rayel was sorely grieved by the
death of his pet, and although he stood in the shadow of a far greater
sorrow, he felt deeply the loss of this lifelong friend. The summer
passed slowly, one day like another, casting on us the same burden of
anxiety and silence. I spent much of the time in my uncle's library,
poring over his books and trying to shake off the melancholy thoughts
suggested by my daily life.

One day in early autumn, Rayel was sitting with me near an open window
overlooking the courtyard, where his father was enjoying the open air.

"He will die to-day," said Rayel, calmly. "He told me he would die
to-day."

"He seems the same as usual," I said. "We cannot tell; he may live for
months yet."

Rayel shook his head incredulously, and sat for a long time looking out
of the window in silence.

"And I will go with you then?" he asked suddenly turning toward me.

"Yes," I answered.

It was the first time he had ever asked me a question, for he could read
my mind like an open book, and to him all questioning was unnecessary.

While we were sitting there, thinking over our plans, my uncle summoned
us by rapping with his cane. Rayel turned pale, and, with a whispered
ejaculation, hurried out of the room and ran down the path to his
father, followed closely by myself. My uncle was breathing heavily.

"Count it," said he, feebly extending his hand. Rayel c