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diff --git a/26687.txt b/26687.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f929c68 --- /dev/null +++ b/26687.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3790 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Black Spirits and White, by Ralph Adams Cram + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Black Spirits and White + A Book of Ghost Stories + +Author: Ralph Adams Cram + +Release Date: September 22, 2008 [EBook #26687] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE *** + + + + +Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + +BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE + + + + + CARNATION SERIES + + Black Spirits & White + + _A Book of Ghost Stories_ + + + BY + RALPH ADAMS CRAM + + + [Device] + + + CHICAGO + STONE & KIMBALL + + MDCCCXCV + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY + STONE AND KIMBALL + + +Transcriber's Note: + + Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. The oe + ligature is represented by [oe]. + + + + + "BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE, + RED SPIRITS AND GRAY, + MINGLE, MINGLE, MINGLE, + YE THAT MINGLE MAY." + + + + +Contents + + + PAGE + NO. 252 RUE M. LE PRINCE 3 + IN KROPFSBERG KEEP 33 + THE WHITE VILLA 55 + SISTER MADDELENA 83 + NOTRE DAME DES EAUX 115 + THE DEAD VALLEY 133 + POSTSCRIPT 151 + + + + +No. 252 RUE M. LE PRINCE. + + + + +No. 252 Rue M. le Prince. + + +When in May, 1886, I found myself at last in Paris, I naturally +determined to throw myself on the charity of an old chum of mine, Eugene +Marie d'Ardeche, who had forsaken Boston a year or more ago on receiving +word of the death of an aunt who had left him such property as she +possessed. I fancy this windfall surprised him not a little, for the +relations between the aunt and nephew had never been cordial, judging +from Eugene's remarks touching the lady, who was, it seems, a more or +less wicked and witch-like old person, with a penchant for black magic, +at least such was the common report. + +Why she should leave all her property to d'Ardeche, no one could tell, +unless it was that she felt his rather hobbledehoy tendencies towards +Buddhism and occultism might some day lead him to her own unhallowed +height of questionable illumination. To be sure d'Ardeche reviled her as +a bad old woman, being himself in that state of enthusiastic exaltation +which sometimes accompanies a boyish fancy for occultism; but in spite +of his distant and repellent attitude, Mlle. Blaye de Tartas made him +her sole heir, to the violent wrath of a questionable old party known to +infamy as the Sar Torrevieja, the "King of the Sorcerers." This +malevolent old portent, whose gray and crafty face was often seen in the +Rue M. le Prince during the life of Mlle. de Tartas had, it seems, fully +expected to enjoy her small wealth after her death; and when it appeared +that she had left him only the contents of the gloomy old house in the +Quartier Latin, giving the house itself and all else of which she died +possessed to her nephew in America, the Sar proceeded to remove +everything from the place, and then to curse it elaborately and +comprehensively, together with all those who should ever dwell therein. + +Whereupon he disappeared. + +This final episode was the last word I received from Eugene, but I knew +the number of the house, 252 Rue M. le Prince. So, after a day or two +given to a first cursory survey of Paris, I started across the Seine to +find Eugene and compel him to do the honors of the city. + +Every one who knows the Latin Quarter knows the Rue M. le Prince, +running up the hill towards the Garden of the Luxembourg. It is full of +queer houses and odd corners,--or was in '86,--and certainly No. 252 +was, when I found it, quite as queer as any. It was nothing but a +doorway, a black arch of old stone between and under two new houses +painted yellow. The effect of this bit of seventeenth-century masonry, +with its dirty old doors, and rusty broken lantern sticking gaunt and +grim out over the narrow sidewalk, was, in its frame of fresh plaster, +sinister in the extreme. + +I wondered if I had made a mistake in the number; it was quite evident +that no one lived behind those cobwebs. I went into the doorway of one +of the new hotels and interviewed the concierge. + +No, M. d'Ardeche did not live there, though to be sure he owned the +mansion; he himself resided in Meudon, in the country house of the late +Mlle. de Tartas. Would Monsieur like the number and the street? + +Monsieur would like them extremely, so I took the card that the +concierge wrote for me, and forthwith started for the river, in order +that I might take a steamboat for Meudon. By one of those coincidences +which happen so often, being quite inexplicable, I had not gone twenty +paces down the street before I ran directly into the arms of Eugene +d'Ardeche. In three minutes we were sitting in the queer little garden +of the Chien Bleu, drinking vermouth and absinthe, and talking it all +over. + +"You do not live in your aunt's house?" I said at last, interrogatively. + +"No, but if this sort of thing keeps on I shall have to. I like Meudon +much better, and the house is perfect, all furnished, and nothing in it +newer than the last century. You must come out with me to-night and see +it. I have got a jolly room fixed up for my Buddha. But there is +something wrong with this house opposite. I can't keep a tenant in +it,--not four days. I have had three, all within six months, but the +stories have gone around and a man would as soon think of hiring the +Cour des Comptes to live in as No. 252. It is notorious. The fact is, +it is haunted the worst way." + +I laughed and ordered more vermouth. + +"That is all right. It is haunted all the same, or enough to keep it +empty, and the funny part is that no one knows _how_ it is haunted. +Nothing is ever seen, nothing heard. As far as I can find out, people +just have the horrors there, and have them so bad they have to go to the +hospital afterwards. I have one ex-tenant in the Bicetre now. So the +house stands empty, and as it covers considerable ground and is taxed +for a lot, I don't know what to do about it. I think I'll either give it +to that child of sin, Torrevieja, or else go and live in it myself. I +shouldn't mind the ghosts, I am sure." + +"Did you ever stay there?" + +"No, but I have always intended to, and in fact I came up here to-day to +see a couple of rake-hell fellows I know, Fargeau and Duchesne, doctors +in the Clinical Hospital beyond here, up by the Parc Mont Souris. They +promised that they would spend the night with me some time in my aunt's +house,--which is called around here, you must know, 'la Bouche +d'Enfer,'--and I thought perhaps they would make it this week, if they +can get off duty. Come up with me while I see them, and then we can go +across the river to Vefour's and have some luncheon, you can get your +things at the Chatham, and we will go out to Meudon, where of course you +will spend the night with me." + +The plan suited me perfectly, so we went up to the hospital, found +Fargeau, who declared that he and Duchesne were ready for anything, the +nearer the real "bouche d'enfer" the better; that the following Thursday +they would both be off duty for the night, and that on that day they +would join in an attempt to outwit the devil and clear up the mystery of +No. 252. + +"Does M. l'Americain go with us?" asked Fargeau. + +"Why of course," I replied, "I intend to go, and you must not refuse me, +d'Ardeche; I decline to be put off. Here is a chance for you to do the +honors of your city in a manner which is faultless. Show me a real live +ghost, and I will forgive Paris for having lost the Jardin Mabille." + +So it was settled. + +Later we went down to Meudon and ate dinner in the terrace room of the +villa, which was all that d'Ardeche had said, and more, so utterly was +its atmosphere that of the seventeenth century. At dinner Eugene told me +more about his late aunt, and the queer goings on in the old house. + +Mlle. Blaye lived, it seems, all alone, except for one female servant of +her own age; a severe, taciturn creature, with massive Breton features +and a Breton tongue, whenever she vouchsafed to use it. No one ever was +seen to enter the door of No. 252 except Jeanne the servant and the Sar +Torrevieja, the latter coming constantly from none knew whither, and +always entering, _never leaving_. Indeed, the neighbors, who for eleven +years had watched the old sorcerer sidle crab-wise up to the bell almost +every day, declared vociferously that _never_ had he been seen to leave +the house. Once, when they decided to keep absolute guard, the watcher, +none other than Maitre Garceau of the Chien Bleu, after keeping his eyes +fixed on the door from ten o'clock one morning when the Sar arrived +until four in the afternoon, during which time the door was unopened (he +knew this, for had he not gummed a ten-centime stamp over the joint and +was not the stamp unbroken) nearly fell down when the sinister figure +of Torrevieja slid wickedly by him with a dry "Pardon, Monsieur!" and +disappeared again through the black doorway. + +This was curious, for No. 252 was entirely surrounded by houses, its +only windows opening on a courtyard into which no eye could look from +the hotels of the Rue M. le Prince and the Rue de l'Ecole, and the +mystery was one of the choice possessions of the Latin Quarter. + +Once a year the austerity of the place was broken, and the denizens of +the whole quarter stood open-mouthed watching many carriages drive up to +No. 252, many of them private, not a few with crests on the door panels, +from all of them descending veiled female figures and men with coat +collars turned up. Then followed curious sounds of music from within, +and those whose houses joined the blank walls of No. 252 became for the +moment popular, for by placing the ear against the wall strange music +could distinctly be heard, and the sound of monotonous chanting voices +now and then. By dawn the last guest would have departed, and for +another year the hotel of Mlle. de Tartas was ominously silent. + +Eugene declared that he believed it was a celebration of +"Walpurgisnacht," and certainly appearances favored such a fancy. + +"A queer thing about the whole affair is," he said, "the fact that every +one in the street swears that about a month ago, while I was out in +Concarneau for a visit, the music and voices were heard again, just as +when my revered aunt was in the flesh. The house was perfectly empty, as +I tell you, so it is quite possible that the good people were enjoying +an hallucination." + +I must acknowledge that these stories did not reassure me; in fact, as +Thursday came near, I began to regret a little my determination to spend +the night in the house. I was too vain to back down, however, and the +perfect coolness of the two doctors, who ran down Tuesday to Meudon to +make a few arrangements, caused me to swear that I would die of fright +before I would flinch. I suppose I believed more or less in ghosts, I am +sure now that I am older I believe in them, there are in fact few things +I can _not_ believe. Two or three inexplicable things had happened to +me, and, although this was before my adventure with Rendel in Paestum, I +had a strong predisposition to believe some things that I could not +explain, wherein I was out of sympathy with the age. + +Well, to come to the memorable night of the twelfth of June, we had made +our preparations, and after depositing a big bag inside the doors of No. +252, went across to the Chien Bleu, where Fargeau and Duchesne turned up +promptly, and we sat down to the best dinner Pere Garceau could create. + +I remember I hardly felt that the conversation was in good taste. It +began with various stories of Indian fakirs and Oriental jugglery, +matters in which Eugene was curiously well read, swerved to the horrors +of the great Sepoy mutiny, and thus to reminiscences of the +dissecting-room. By this time we had drunk more or less, and Duchesne +launched into a photographic and Zolaesque account of the only time (as +he said) when he was possessed of the panic of fear; namely, one night +many years ago, when he was locked by accident into the dissecting-room +of the Loucine, together with several cadavers of a rather unpleasant +nature. I ventured to protest mildly against the choice of subjects, +the result being a perfect carnival of horrors, so that when we finally +drank our last _creme de cacao_ and started for "la Bouche d'Enfer," my +nerves were in a somewhat rocky condition. + +It was just ten o'clock when we came into the street. A hot dead wind +drifted in great puffs through the city, and ragged masses of vapor +swept the purple sky; an unsavory night altogether, one of those nights +of hopeless lassitude when one feels, if one is at home, like doing +nothing but drink mint juleps and smoke cigarettes. + +Eugene opened the creaking door, and tried to light one of the lanterns; +but the gusty wind blew out every match, and we finally had to close the +outer doors before we could get a light. At last we had all the lanterns +going, and I began to look around curiously. We were in a long, vaulted +passage, partly carriageway, partly footpath, perfectly bare but for the +street refuse which had drifted in with eddying winds. Beyond lay the +courtyard, a curious place rendered more curious still by the fitful +moonlight and the flashing of four dark lanterns. The place had +evidently been once a most noble palace. Opposite rose the oldest +portion, a three-story wall of the time of Francis I., with a great +wisteria vine covering half. The wings on either side were more modern, +seventeenth century, and ugly, while towards the street was nothing but +a flat unbroken wall. + +The great bare court, littered with bits of paper blown in by the wind, +fragments of packing cases, and straw, mysterious with flashing lights +and flaunting shadows, while low masses of torn vapor drifted overhead, +hiding, then revealing the stars, and all in absolute silence, not even +the sounds of the streets entering this prison-like place, was weird and +uncanny in the extreme. I must confess that already I began to feel a +slight disposition towards the horrors, but with that curious +inconsequence which so often happens in the case of those who are +deliberately growing scared, I could think of nothing more reassuring +than those delicious verses of Lewis Carroll's:-- + + "Just the place for a Snark! I have said it twice, + That alone should encourage the crew. + Just the place for a Snark! I have said it thrice, + What I tell you three times is true,"-- + +which kept repeating themselves over and over in my brain with feverish +insistence. + +Even the medical students had stopped their chaffing, and were studying +the surroundings gravely. + +"There is one thing certain," said Fargeau, "_anything_ might have +happened here without the slightest chance of discovery. Did ever you +see such a perfect place for lawlessness?" + +"And _anything_ might happen here now, with the same certainty of +impunity," continued Duchesne, lighting his pipe, the snap of the match +making us all start. "D'Ardeche, your lamented relative was certainly +well fixed; she had full scope here for her traditional experiments in +demonology." + +"Curse me if I don't believe that those same traditions were more or +less founded on fact," said Eugene. "I never saw this court under these +conditions before, but I could believe anything now. What's that!" + +"Nothing but a door slamming," said Duchesne, loudly. + +"Well, I wish doors wouldn't slam in houses that have been empty eleven +months." + +"It is irritating," and Duchesne slipped his arm through mine; "but we +must take things as they come. Remember we have to deal not only with +the spectral lumber left here by your scarlet aunt, but as well with the +supererogatory curse of that hell-cat Torrevieja. Come on! let's get +inside before the hour arrives for the sheeted dead to squeak and gibber +in these lonely halls. Light your pipes, your tobacco is a sure +protection against 'your whoreson dead bodies'; light up and move on." + +We opened the hall door and entered a vaulted stone vestibule, full of +dust, and cobwebby. + +"There is nothing on this floor," said Eugene, "except servants' rooms +and offices, and I don't believe there is anything wrong with them. I +never heard that there was, any way. Let's go up stairs." + +So far as we could see, the house was apparently perfectly uninteresting +inside, all eighteenth-century work, the facade of the main building +being, with the vestibule, the only portion of the Francis I. work. + +"The place was burned during the Terror," said Eugene, "for my +great-uncle, from whom Mlle. de Tartas inherited it, was a good and true +Royalist; he went to Spain after the Revolution, and did not come back +until the accession of Charles X., when he restored the house, and then +died, enormously old. This explains why it is all so new." + +The old Spanish sorcerer to whom Mlle. de Tartas had left her personal +property had done his work thoroughly. The house was absolutely empty, +even the wardrobes and bookcases built in had been carried away; we went +through room after room, finding all absolutely dismantled, only the +windows and doors with their casings, the parquet floors, and the florid +Renaissance mantels remaining. + +"I feel better," remarked Fargeau. "The house may be haunted, but it +don't look it, certainly; it is the most respectable place imaginable." + +"Just you wait," replied Eugene. "These are only the state apartments, +which my aunt seldom used, except, perhaps, on her annual +'Walpurgisnacht.' Come up stairs and I will show you a better _mise en +scene_." + +On this floor, the rooms fronting the court, the sleeping-rooms, were +quite small,--("They are the bad rooms all the same," said +Eugene,)--four of them, all just as ordinary in appearance as those +below. A corridor ran behind them connecting with the wing corridor, +and from this opened a door, unlike any of the other doors in that it +was covered with green baize, somewhat moth-eaten. Eugene selected a key +from the bunch he carried, unlocked the door, and with some difficulty +forced it to swing inward; it was as heavy as the door of a safe. + +"We are now," he said, "on the very threshold of hell itself; these +rooms in here were my scarlet aunt's unholy of unholies. I never let +them with the rest of the house, but keep them as a curiosity. I only +wish Torrevieja had kept out; as it was, he looted them, as he did the +rest of the house, and nothing is left but the walls and ceiling and +floor. They are something, however, and may suggest what the former +condition must have been. Tremble and enter." + +The first apartment was a kind of anteroom, a cube of perhaps twenty +feet each way, without windows, and with no doors except that by which +we entered and another to the right. Walls, floor, and ceiling were +covered with a black lacquer, brilliantly polished, that flashed the +light of our lanterns in a thousand intricate reflections. It was like +the inside of an enormous Japanese box, and about as empty. From this +we passed to another room, and here we nearly dropped our lanterns. The +room was circular, thirty feet or so in diameter, covered by a +hemispherical dome; walls and ceiling were dark blue, spotted with gold +stars; and reaching from floor to floor across the dome stretched a +colossal figure in red lacquer of a nude woman kneeling, her legs +reaching out along the floor on either side, her head touching the +lintel of the door through which we had entered, her arms forming its +sides, with the fore arms extended and stretching along the walls until +they met the long feet. The most astounding, misshapen, absolutely +terrifying thing, I think, I ever saw. From the navel hung a great white +object, like the traditional roe's egg of the Arabian Nights. The floor +was of red lacquer, and in it was inlaid a pentagram the size of the +room, made of wide strips of brass. In the centre of this pentagram was +a circular disk of black stone, slightly saucer-shaped, with a small +outlet in the middle. + +The effect of the room was simply crushing, with this gigantic red +figure crouched over it all, the staring eyes fixed on one, no matter +what his position. None of us spoke, so oppressive was the whole thing. + +The third room was like the first in dimensions, but instead of being +black it was entirely sheathed with plates of brass, walls, ceiling, and +floor,--tarnished now, and turning green, but still brilliant under the +lantern light. In the middle stood an oblong altar of porphyry, its +longer dimensions on the axis of the suite of rooms, and at one end, +opposite the range of doors, a pedestal of black basalt. + +This was all. Three rooms, stranger than these, even in their emptiness, +it would be hard to imagine. In Egypt, in India, they would not be +entirely out of place, but here in Paris, in a commonplace _hotel_, in +the Rue M. le Prince, they were incredible. + +We retraced our steps, Eugene closed the iron door with its baize +covering, and we went into one of the front chambers and sat down, +looking at each other. + +"Nice party, your aunt," said Fargeau. "Nice old party, with amiable +tastes; I am glad we are not to spend the night in _those_ rooms." + +"What do you suppose she did there?" inquired Duchesne. "I know more or +less about black art, but that series of rooms is too much for me." + +"My impression is," said d'Ardeche, "that the brazen room was a kind of +sanctuary containing some image or other on the basalt base, while the +stone in front was really an altar,--what the nature of the sacrifice +might be I don't even guess. The round room may have been used for +invocations and incantations. The pentagram looks like it. Any way it is +all just about as queer and _fin de siecle_ as I can well imagine. Look +here, it is nearly twelve, let's dispose of ourselves, if we are going +to hunt this thing down." + +The four chambers on this floor of the old house were those said to be +haunted, the wings being quite innocent, and, so far as we knew, the +floors below. It was arranged that we should each occupy a room, leaving +the doors open with the lights burning, and at the slightest cry or +knock we were all to rush at once to the room from which the warning +sound might come. There was no communication between the rooms to be +sure, but, as the doors all opened into the corridor, every sound was +plainly audible. + +The last room fell to me, and I looked it over carefully. + +It seemed innocent enough, a commonplace, square, rather lofty Parisian +sleeping-room, finished in wood painted white, with a small marble +mantel, a dusty floor of inlaid maple and cherry, walls hung with an +ordinary French paper, apparently quite new, and two deeply embrasured +windows looking out on the court. + +I opened the swinging sash with some trouble, and sat down in the window +seat with my lantern beside me trained on the only door, which gave on +the corridor. + +The wind had gone down, and it was very still without,--still and hot. +The masses of luminous vapor were gathering thickly overhead, no longer +urged by the gusty wind. The great masses of rank wisteria leaves, with +here and there a second blossoming of purple flowers, hung dead over the +window in the sluggish air. Across the roofs I could hear the sound of a +belated _fiacre_ in the streets below. I filled my pipe again and +waited. + +For a time the voices of the men in the other rooms were a +companionship, and at first I shouted to them now and then, but my +voice echoed rather unpleasantly through the long corridors, and had a +suggestive way of reverberating around the left wing beside me, and +coming out at a broken window at its extremity like the voice of another +man. I soon gave up my attempts at conversation, and devoted myself to +the task of keeping awake. + +It was not easy; why did I eat that lettuce salad at Pere Garceau's? I +should have known better. It was making me irresistibly sleepy, and +wakefulness was absolutely necessary. It was certainly gratifying to +know that I could sleep, that my courage was by me to that extent, but +in the interests of science I must keep awake. But almost never, it +seemed, had sleep looked so desirable. Half a hundred times, nearly, I +would doze for an instant, only to awake with a start, and find my pipe +gone out. Nor did the exertion of relighting it pull me together. I +struck my match mechanically, and with the first puff dropped off again. +It was most vexing. I got up and walked around the room. It was most +annoying. My cramped position had almost put both my legs to sleep. I +could hardly stand. I felt numb, as though with cold. There was no +longer any sound from the other rooms, nor from without. I sank down in +my window seat. How dark it was growing! I turned up the lantern. That +pipe again, how obstinately it kept going out! and my last match was +gone. The lantern, too, was _that_ going out? I lifted my hand to turn +it up again. It felt like lead, and fell beside me. + +_Then_ I awoke,--absolutely. I remembered the story of "The Haunters and +the Haunted." _This_ was the Horror. I tried to rise, to cry out. My +body was like lead, my tongue was paralyzed. I could hardly move my +eyes. And the light was going out. There was no question about that. +Darker and darker yet; little by little the pattern of the paper was +swallowed up in the advancing night. A prickling numbness gathered in +every nerve, my right arm slipped without feeling from my lap to my +side, and I could not raise it,--it swung helpless. A thin, keen humming +began in my head, like the cicadas on a hillside in September. The +darkness was coming fast. + +Yes, this was it. Something was subjecting me, body and mind, to slow +paralysis. Physically I was already dead. If I could only hold my mind, +my consciousness, I might still be safe, but could I? Could I resist +the mad horror of this silence, the deepening dark, the creeping +numbness? I knew that, like the man in the ghost story, my only safety +lay here. + +It had come at last. My body was dead, I could no longer move my eyes. +They were fixed in that last look on the place where the door had been, +now only a deepening of the dark. + +Utter night: the last flicker of the lantern was gone. I sat and waited; +my mind was still keen, but how long would it last? There was a limit +even to the endurance of the utter panic of fear. + +Then the end began. In the velvet blackness came two white eyes, milky, +opalescent, small, far away,--awful eyes, like a dead dream. More +beautiful than I can describe, the flakes of white flame moving from the +perimeter inward, disappearing in the centre, like a never ending flow +of opal water into a circular tunnel. I could not have moved my eyes had +I possessed the power: they devoured the fearful, beautiful things that +grew slowly, slowly larger, fixed on me, advancing, growing more +beautiful, the white flakes of light sweeping more swiftly into the +blazing vortices, the awful fascination deepening in its insane +intensity as the white, vibrating eyes grew nearer, larger. + +Like a hideous and implacable engine of death the eyes of the unknown +Horror swelled and expanded until they were close before me, enormous, +terrible, and I felt a slow, cold, wet breath propelled with mechanical +regularity against my face, enveloping me in its fetid mist, in its +charnel-house deadliness. + +With ordinary fear goes always a physical terror, but with me in the +presence of this unspeakable Thing was only the utter and awful terror +of the mind, the mad fear of a prolonged and ghostly nightmare. Again +and again I tried to shriek, to make some noise, but physically I was +utterly dead. I could only feel myself go mad with the terror of hideous +death. The eyes were close on me,--their movement so swift that they +seemed to be but palpitating flames, the dead breath was around me like +the depths of the deepest sea. + +Suddenly a wet, icy mouth, like that of a dead cuttle-fish, shapeless, +jelly-like, fell over mine. The horror began slowly to draw my life from +me, but, as enormous and shuddering folds of palpitating jelly swept +sinuously around me, my will came back, my body awoke with the reaction +of final fear, and I closed with the nameless death that enfolded me. + +What was it that I was fighting? My arms sunk through the unresisting +mass that was turning me to ice. Moment by moment new folds of cold +jelly swept round me, crushing me with the force of Titans. I fought to +wrest my mouth from this awful Thing that sealed it, but, if ever I +succeeded and caught a single breath, the wet, sucking mass closed over +my face again before I could cry out. I think I fought for hours, +desperately, insanely, in a silence that was more hideous than any +sound,--fought until I felt final death at hand, until the memory of all +my life rushed over me like a flood, until I no longer had strength to +wrench my face from that hellish succubus, until with a last mechanical +struggle I fell and yielded to death. + + * * * * * + +Then I heard a voice say, "If he is dead, I can never forgive myself; I +was to blame." + +Another replied, "He is not dead, I know we can save him if only we +reach the hospital in time. Drive like hell, _cocher_! twenty francs for +you, if you get there in three minutes." + +Then there was night again, and nothingness, until I suddenly awoke and +stared around. I lay in a hospital ward, very white and sunny, some +yellow _fleurs-de-lis_ stood beside the head of the pallet, and a tall +sister of mercy sat by my side. + +To tell the story in a few words, I was in the Hotel Dieu, where the men +had taken me that fearful night of the twelfth of June. I asked for +Fargeau or Duchesne, and by and by the latter came, and sitting beside +the bed told me all that I did not know. + +It seems that they had sat, each in his room, hour after hour, hearing +nothing, very much bored, and disappointed. Soon after two o'clock +Fargeau, who was in the next room, called to me to ask if I was awake. I +gave no reply, and, after shouting once or twice, he took his lantern +and came to investigate. The door was locked on the inside! He instantly +called d'Ardeche and Duchesne, and together they hurled themselves +against the door. It resisted. Within they could hear irregular +footsteps dashing here and there, with heavy breathing. Although frozen +with terror, they fought to destroy the door and finally succeeded by +using a great slab of marble that formed the shelf of the mantel in +Fargeau's room. As the door crashed in, they were suddenly hurled back +against the walls of the corridor, as though by an explosion, the +lanterns were extinguished, and they found themselves in utter silence +and darkness. + +As soon as they recovered from the shock, they leaped into the room and +fell over my body in the middle of the floor. They lighted one of the +lanterns, and saw the strangest sight that can be imagined. The floor +and walls to the height of about six feet were running with something +that seemed like stagnant water, thick, glutinous, sickening. As for me, +I was drenched with the same cursed liquid. The odor of musk was +nauseating. They dragged me away, stripped off my clothing, wrapped me +in their coats, and hurried to the hospital, thinking me perhaps dead. +Soon after sunrise d'Ardeche left the hospital, being assured that I was +in a fair way to recovery, with time, and with Fargeau went up to +examine by daylight the traces of the adventure that was so nearly +fatal. They were too late. Fire engines were coming down the street as +they passed the Academie. A neighbor rushed up to d'Ardeche: "O +Monsieur! what misfortune, yet what fortune! It is true _la Bouche +d'Enfer_--I beg pardon, the residence of the lamented Mlle. de +Tartas,--was burned, but not wholly, only the ancient building. The +wings were saved, and for that great credit is due the brave firemen. +Monsieur will remember them, no doubt." + +It was quite true. Whether a forgotten lantern, overturned in the +excitement, had done the work, or whether the origin of the fire was +more supernatural, it was certain that "the Mouth of Hell" was no more. +A last engine was pumping slowly as d'Ardeche came up; half a dozen +limp, and one distended, hose stretched through the _porte cochere_, and +within only the facade of Francis I. remained, draped still with the +black stems of the wisteria. Beyond lay a great vacancy, where thin +smoke was rising slowly. Every floor was gone, and the strange halls of +Mlle. Blaye de Tartas were only a memory. + +With d'Ardeche I visited the place last year, but in the stead of the +ancient walls was then only a new and ordinary building, fresh and +respectable; yet the wonderful stories of the old _Bouche d'Enfer_ still +lingered in the quarter, and will hold there, I do not doubt, until the +Day of Judgment. + + + + +IN KROPFSBERG KEEP. + + + + +In Kropfsberg Keep. + + +To the traveller from Innsbrueck to Munich, up the lovely valley of the +silver Inn, many castles appear, one after another, each on its beetling +cliff or gentle hill,--appear and disappear, melting into the dark fir +trees that grow so thickly on every side,--Laneck, Lichtwer, Ratholtz, +Tratzberg, Matzen, Kropfsberg, gathering close around the entrance to +the dark and wonderful Zillerthal. + +But to us--Tom Rendel and myself--there are two castles only: not the +gorgeous and princely Ambras, nor the noble old Tratzberg, with its +crowded treasures of solemn and splendid mediaevalism; but little Matzen, +where eager hospitality forms the new life of a never-dead chivalry, and +Kropfsberg, ruined, tottering, blasted by fire and smitten with +grievous years,--a dead thing, and haunted,--full of strange legends, +and eloquent of mystery and tragedy. + +We were visiting the von C----s at Matzen, and gaining our first +wondering knowledge of the courtly, cordial castle life in the +Tyrol,--of the gentle and delicate hospitality of noble Austrians. +Brixleg had ceased to be but a mark on a map, and had become a place of +rest and delight, a home for homeless wanderers on the face of Europe, +while Schloss Matzen was a synonym for all that was gracious and kindly +and beautiful in life. The days moved on in a golden round of riding and +driving and shooting: down to Landl and Thiersee for chamois, across the +river to the magic Achensee, up the Zillerthal, across the Schmerner +Joch, even to the railway station at Steinach. And in the evenings after +the late dinners in the upper hall where the sleepy hounds leaned +against our chairs looking at us with suppliant eyes, in the evenings +when the fire was dying away in the hooded fireplace in the library, +stories. Stories, and legends, and fairy tales, while the stiff old +portraits changed countenance constantly under the flickering firelight, +and the sound of the drifting Inn came softly across the meadows far +below. + +If ever I tell the Story of Schloss Matzen, then will be the time to +paint the too inadequate picture of this fair oasis in the desert of +travel and tourists and hotels; but just now it is Kropfsberg the Silent +that is of greater importance, for it was only in Matzen that the story +was told by Fraeulein E----, the gold-haired niece of Frau von C----, one +hot evening in July, when we were sitting in the great west window of +the drawing-room after a long ride up the Stallenthal. All the windows +were open to catch the faint wind, and we had sat for a long time +watching the Otzethaler Alps turn rose-color over distant Innsbrueck, +then deepen to violet as the sun went down and the white mists rose +slowly until Lichtwer and Laneck and Kropfsberg rose like craggy islands +in a silver sea. + +And this is the story as Fraeulein E---- told it to us,--the Story of +Kropfsberg Keep. + + * * * * * + +A great many years ago, soon after my grandfather died, and Matzen came +to us, when I was a little girl, and so young that I remember nothing +of the affair except as something dreadful that frightened me very much, +two young men who had studied painting with my grandfather came down to +Brixleg from Munich, partly to paint, and partly to amuse +themselves,--"ghost-hunting" as they said, for they were very sensible +young men and prided themselves on it, laughing at all kinds of +"superstition," and particularly at that form which believed in ghosts +and feared them. They had never seen a real ghost, you know, and they +belonged to a certain set of people who believed nothing they had not +seen themselves,--which always seemed to me _very_ conceited. Well, they +knew that we had lots of beautiful castles here in the "lower valley," +and they assumed, and rightly, that every castle has at least _one_ +ghost story connected with it, so they chose this as their hunting +ground, only the game they sought was ghosts, not chamois. Their plan +was to visit every place that was supposed to be haunted, and to meet +every reputed ghost, and prove that it really was no ghost at all. + +There was a little inn down in the village then, kept by an old man +named Peter Rosskopf, and the two young men made this their +headquarters. The very first night they began to draw from the old +innkeeper all that he knew of legends and ghost stories connected with +Brixleg and its castles, and as he was a most garrulous old gentleman he +filled them with the wildest delight by his stories of the ghosts of the +castles about the mouth of the Zillerthal. Of course the old man +believed every word he said, and you can imagine his horror and +amazement when, after telling his guests the particularly blood-curdling +story of Kropfsberg and its haunted keep, the elder of the two boys, +whose surname I have forgotten, but whose Christian name was Rupert, +calmly said, "Your story is most satisfactory: we will sleep in +Kropfsberg Keep to-morrow night, and you must provide us with all that +we may need to make ourselves comfortable." + +The old man nearly fell into the fire. "What for a blockhead are you?" +he cried, with big eyes. "The keep is haunted by Count Albert's ghost, I +tell you!" + +"That is why we are going there to-morrow night; we wish to make the +acquaintance of Count Albert." + +"But there was a man stayed there once, and in the morning he was +dead." + +"Very silly of him; there are two of us, and we carry revolvers." + +"But it's a _ghost_, I tell you," almost screamed the innkeeper; "are +ghosts afraid of firearms?" + +"Whether they are or not, we are _not_ afraid of _them_." + +Here the younger boy broke in,--he was named Otto von Kleist. I remember +the name, for I had a music teacher once by that name. He abused the +poor old man shamefully; told him that they were going to spend the +night in Kropfsberg in spite of Count Albert and Peter Rosskopf, and +that he might as well make the most of it and earn his money with +cheerfulness. + +In a word, they finally bullied the old fellow into submission, and when +the morning came he set about preparing for the suicide, as he +considered it, with sighs and mutterings and ominous shakings of the +head. + +You know the condition of the castle now,--nothing but scorched walls +and crumbling piles of fallen masonry. Well, at the time I tell you of, +the keep was still partially preserved. It was finally burned out only a +few years ago by some wicked boys who came over from Jenbach to have a +good time. But when the ghost hunters came, though the two lower floors +had fallen into the crypt, the third floor remained. The peasants said +it _could_ not fall, but that it would stay until the Day of Judgment, +because it was in the room above that the wicked Count Albert sat +watching the flames destroy the great castle and his imprisoned guests, +and where he finally hung himself in a suit of armor that had belonged +to his mediaeval ancestor, the first Count Kropfsberg. + +No one dared touch him, and so he hung there for twelve years, and all +the time venturesome boys and daring men used to creep up the turret +steps and stare awfully through the chinks in the door at that ghostly +mass of steel that held within itself the body of a murderer and +suicide, slowly returning to the dust from which it was made. Finally it +disappeared, none knew whither, and for another dozen years the room +stood empty but for the old furniture and the rotting hangings. + +So, when the two men climbed the stairway to the haunted room, they +found a very different state of things from what exists now. The room +was absolutely as it was left the night Count Albert burned the castle, +except that all trace of the suspended suit of armor and its ghastly +contents had vanished. + +No one had dared to cross the threshold, and I suppose that for forty +years no living thing had entered that dreadful room. + +On one side stood a vast canopied bed of black wood, the damask hangings +of which were covered with mould and mildew. All the clothing of the bed +was in perfect order, and on it lay a book, open, and face downward. The +only other furniture in the room consisted of several old chairs, a +carved oak chest, and a big inlaid table covered with books and papers, +and on one corner two or three bottles with dark solid sediment at the +bottom, and a glass, also dark with the dregs of wine that had been +poured out almost half a century before. The tapestry on the walls was +green with mould, but hardly torn or otherwise defaced, for although the +heavy dust of forty years lay on everything the room had been preserved +from further harm. No spider web was to be seen, no trace of nibbling +mice, not even a dead moth or fly on the sills of the diamond-paned +windows; life seemed to have shunned the room utterly and finally. + +The men looked at the room curiously, and, I am sure, not without some +feelings of awe and unacknowledged fear; but, whatever they may have +felt of instinctive shrinking, they said nothing, and quickly set to +work to make the room passably inhabitable. They decided to touch +nothing that had not absolutely to be changed, and therefore they made +for themselves a bed in one corner with the mattress and linen from the +inn. In the great fireplace they piled a lot of wood on the caked ashes +of a fire dead for forty years, turned the old chest into a table, and +laid out on it all their arrangements for the evening's amusement: food, +two or three bottles of wine, pipes and tobacco, and the chess-board +that was their inseparable travelling companion. + +All this they did themselves: the innkeeper would not even come within +the walls of the outer court; he insisted that he had washed his hands +of the whole affair, the silly dunderheads might go to their death their +own way. _He_ would not aid and abet them. One of the stable boys +brought the basket of food and the wood and the bed up the winding stone +stairs, to be sure, but neither money nor prayers nor threats would +bring him within the walls of the accursed place, and he stared +fearfully at the hare-brained boys as they worked around the dead old +room preparing for the night that was coming so fast. + +At length everything was in readiness, and after a final visit to the +inn for dinner Rupert and Otto started at sunset for the Keep. Half the +village went with them, for Peter Rosskopf had babbled the whole story +to an open-mouthed crowd of wondering men and women, and as to an +execution the awe-struck crowd followed the two boys dumbly, curious to +see if they surely would put their plan into execution. But none went +farther than the outer doorway of the stairs, for it was already growing +twilight. In absolute silence they watched the two foolhardy youths with +their lives in their hands enter the terrible Keep, standing like a +tower in the midst of the piles of stones that had once formed walls +joining it with the mass of the castle beyond. When a moment later a +light showed itself in the high windows above, they sighed resignedly +and went their ways, to wait stolidly until morning should come and +prove the truth of their fears and warnings. + +In the mean time the ghost hunters built a huge fire, lighted their +many candles, and sat down to await developments. Rupert afterwards told +my uncle that they really felt no fear whatever, only a contemptuous +curiosity, and they ate their supper with good appetite and an unusual +relish. It was a long evening. They played many games of chess, waiting +for midnight. Hour passed after hour, and nothing occurred to interrupt +the monotony of the evening. Ten, eleven, came and went,--it was almost +midnight. They piled more wood in the fireplace, lighted new candles, +looked to their pistols--and waited. The clocks in the village struck +twelve; the sound coming muffled through the high, deep-embrasured +windows. Nothing happened, nothing to break the heavy silence; and with +a feeling of disappointed relief they looked at each other and +acknowledged that they had met another rebuff. + +Finally they decided that there was no use in sitting up and boring +themselves any longer, they had much better rest; so Otto threw himself +down on the mattress, falling almost immediately asleep. Rupert sat a +little longer, smoking, and watching the stars creep along behind the +shattered glass and the bent leads of the lofty windows; watching the +fire fall together, and the strange shadows move mysteriously on the +mouldering walls. The iron hook in the oak beam, that crossed the +ceiling midway, fascinated him, not with fear, but morbidly. So, it was +from that hook that for twelve years, twelve long years of changing +summer and winter, the body of Count Albert, murderer and suicide, hung +in its strange casing of mediaeval steel; moving a little at first, and +turning gently while the fire died out on the hearth, while the ruins of +the castle grew cold, and horrified peasants sought for the bodies of +the score of gay, reckless, wicked guests whom Count Albert had gathered +in Kropfsberg for a last debauch, gathered to their terrible and +untimely death. What a strange and fiendish idea it was, the young, +handsome noble who had ruined himself and his family in the society of +the splendid debauchees, gathering them all together, men and women who +had known only love and pleasure, for a glorious and awful riot of +luxury, and then, when they were all dancing in the great ballroom, +locking the doors and burning the whole castle about them, the while he +sat in the great keep listening to their screams of agonized fear, +watching the fire sweep from wing to wing until the whole mighty mass +was one enormous and awful pyre, and then, clothing himself in his +great-great-grandfather's armor, hanging himself in the midst of the +ruins of what had been a proud and noble castle. So ended a great +family, a great house. + +But that was forty years ago. + +He was growing drowsy; the light flickered and flared in the fireplace; +one by one the candles went out; the shadows grew thick in the room. Why +did that great iron hook stand out so plainly? why did that dark shadow +dance and quiver so mockingly behind it?--why-- But he ceased to wonder +at anything. He was asleep. + +It seemed to him that he woke almost immediately; the fire still burned, +though low and fitfully on the hearth. Otto was sleeping, breathing +quietly and regularly; the shadows had gathered close around him, thick +and murky; with every passing moment the light died in the fireplace; he +felt stiff with cold. In the utter silence he heard the clock in the +village strike two. He shivered with a sudden and irresistible feeling +of fear, and abruptly turned and looked towards the hook in the ceiling. + +Yes, It was there. He knew that It would be. It seemed quite natural, he +would have been disappointed had he seen nothing; but now he knew that +the story was true, knew that he was wrong, and that the dead _do_ +sometimes return to earth, for there, in the fast-deepening shadow, hung +the black mass of wrought steel, turning a little now and then, with the +light flickering on the tarnished and rusty metal. He watched it +quietly; he hardly felt afraid; it was rather a sentiment of sadness and +fatality that filled him, of gloomy forebodings of something unknown, +unimaginable. He sat and watched the thing disappear in the gathering +dark, his hand on his pistol as it lay by him on the great chest. There +was no sound but the regular breathing of the sleeping boy on the +mattress. + +It had grown absolutely dark; a bat fluttered against the broken glass +of the window. He wondered if he was growing mad, for--he hesitated to +acknowledge it to himself--he heard music; far, curious music, a strange +and luxurious dance, very faint, very vague, but unmistakable. + +Like a flash of lightning came a jagged line of fire down the blank wall +opposite him, a line that remained, that grew wider, that let a pale +cold light into the room, showing him now all its details,--the empty +fireplace, where a thin smoke rose in a spiral from a bit of charred +wood, the mass of the great bed, and, in the very middle, black against +the curious brightness, the armored man, or ghost, or devil, standing, +not suspended, beneath the rusty hook. And with the rending of the wall +the music grew more distinct, though sounding still very, very far away. + +Count Albert raised his mailed hand and beckoned to him; then turned, +and stood in the riven wall. + +Without a word, Rupert rose and followed him, his pistol in hand. Count +Albert passed through the mighty wall and disappeared in the unearthly +light. Rupert followed mechanically. He felt the crushing of the mortar +beneath his feet, the roughness of the jagged wall where he rested his +hand to steady himself. + +The keep rose absolutely isolated among the ruins, yet on passing +through the wall Rupert found himself in a long, uneven corridor, the +floor of which was warped and sagging, while the walls were covered on +one side with big faded portraits of an inferior quality, like those in +the corridor that connects the Pitti and Uffizzi in Florence. Before him +moved the figure of Count Albert,--a black silhouette in the +ever-increasing light. And always the music grew stronger and stranger, +a mad, evil, seductive dance that bewitched even while it disgusted. + +In a final blaze of vivid, intolerable light, in a burst of hellish +music that might have come from Bedlam, Rupert stepped from the corridor +into a vast and curious room where at first he saw nothing, +distinguished nothing but a mad, seething whirl of sweeping figures, +white, in a white room, under white light, Count Albert standing before +him, the only dark object to be seen. As his eyes grew accustomed to the +fearful brightness, he knew that he was looking on a dance such as the +damned might see in hell, but such as no living man had ever seen +before. + +Around the long, narrow hall, under the fearful light that came from +nowhere, but was omnipresent, swept a rushing stream of unspeakable +horrors, dancing insanely, laughing, gibbering hideously; the dead of +forty years. White, polished skeletons, bare of flesh and vesture, +skeletons clothed in the dreadful rags of dried and rattling sinews, the +tags of tattering grave-clothes flaunting behind them. These were the +dead of many years ago. Then the dead of more recent times, with yellow +bones showing only here and there, the long and insecure hair of their +hideous heads writhing in the beating air. Then green and gray horrors, +bloated and shapeless, stained with earth or dripping with spattering +water; and here and there white, beautiful things, like chiselled ivory, +the dead of yesterday, locked it may be, in the mummy arms of rattling +skeletons. + +Round and round the cursed room, a swaying, swirling maelstrom of death, +while the air grew thick with miasma, the floor foul with shreds of +shrouds, and yellow parchment, clattering bones, and wisps of tangled +hair. + +And in the very midst of this ring of death, a sight not for words nor +for thought, a sight to blast forever the mind of the man who looked +upon it: a leaping, writhing dance of Count Albert's victims, the score +of beautiful women and reckless men who danced to their awful death +while the castle burned around them, charred and shapeless now, a living +charnel-house of nameless horror. + +Count Albert, who had stood silent and gloomy, watching the dance of the +damned, turned to Rupert, and for the first time spoke. + +"We are ready for you now; dance!" + +A prancing horror, dead some dozen years, perhaps, flaunted from the +rushing river of the dead, and leered at Rupert with eyeless skull. + +"Dance!" + +Rupert stood frozen, motionless. + +"Dance!" + +His hard lips moved. "Not if the devil came from hell to make me." + +Count Albert swept his vast two-handed sword into the f[oe]tid air while +the tide of corruption paused in its swirling, and swept down on Rupert +with gibbering grins. + +The room, and the howling dead, and the black portent before him circled +dizzily around, as with a last effort of departing consciousness he +drew his pistol and fired full in the face of Count Albert. + + * * * * * + +Perfect silence, perfect darkness; not a breath, not a sound: the dead +stillness of a long-sealed tomb. Rupert lay on his back, stunned, +helpless, his pistol clenched in his frozen hand, a smell of powder in +the black air. Where was he? Dead? In hell? He reached his hand out +cautiously; it fell on dusty boards. Outside, far away, a clock struck +three. Had he dreamed? Of course; but how ghastly a dream! With +chattering teeth he called softly,-- + +"Otto!" + +There was no reply, and none when he called again and again. He +staggered weakly to his feet, groping for matches and candles. A panic +of abject terror came on him; the matches were gone! He turned towards +the fireplace: a single coal glowed in the white ashes. He swept a mass +of papers and dusty books from the table, and with trembling hands +cowered over the embers, until he succeeded in lighting the dry tinder. +Then he piled the old books on the blaze, and looked fearfully around. + +No: It was gone,--thank God for that; the hook was empty. + +But why did Otto sleep so soundly; why did he not awake? + +He stepped unsteadily across the room in the flaring light of the +burning books, and knelt by the mattress. + + * * * * * + +So they found him in the morning, when no one came to the inn from +Kropfsberg Keep, and the quaking Peter Rosskopf arranged a relief +party;--found him kneeling beside the mattress where Otto lay, shot in +the throat and quite dead. + + + + +THE WHITE VILLA. + + + + +The White Villa. + + +When we left Naples on the 8.10 train for Paestum, Tom and I, we fully +intended returning by the 2.46. Not because two hours time seemed enough +wherein to exhaust the interests of those deathless ruins of a dead +civilization, but simply for the reason that, as our _Indicatore_ +informed us, there was but one other train, and that at 6.11, which +would land us in Naples too late for the dinner at the Turners and the +San Carlo afterwards. Not that I cared in the least for the dinner or +the theatre; but then, I was not so obviously in Miss Turner's good +graces as Tom Rendel was, which made a difference. + +However, we had promised, so that was an end of it. + +This was in the spring of '88, and at that time the railroad, which was +being pushed onward to Reggio, whereby travellers to Sicily might be +spared the agonies of a night on the fickle Mediterranean, reached no +farther than Agropoli, some twenty miles beyond Paestum; but although the +trains were as yet few and slow, we accepted the half-finished road with +gratitude, for it penetrated the very centre of Campanian brigandage, +and made it possible for us to see the matchless temples in safety, +while a few years before it was necessary for intending visitors to +obtain a military escort from the Government; and military escorts are +not for young architects. + +So we set off contentedly, that white May morning, determined to make +the best of our few hours, little thinking that before we saw Naples +again we were to witness things that perhaps no American had ever seen +before. + +For a moment, when we left the train at "Pesto," and started to walk up +the flowery lane leading to the temples, we were almost inclined to +curse this same railroad. We had thought, in our innocence, that we +should be alone, that no one else would think of enduring the long four +hours' ride from Naples just to spend two hours in the ruins of these +temples; but the event proved our unwisdom. We were _not_ alone. It was +a compact little party of conventional sight-seers that accompanied us. +The inevitable English family with the three daughters, prominent of +teeth, flowing of hair, aggressive of scarlet Murrays and Baedekers; the +two blond and untidy Germans; a French couple from the pages of _La Vie +Parisienne_; and our "old man of the sea," the white-bearded +Presbyterian minister from Pennsylvania who had made our life miserable +in Rome at the time of the Pope's Jubilee. Fortunately for us, this +terrible old man had fastened himself upon a party of American +school-teachers travelling _en Cook_, and for the time we were safe; but +our vision of two hours of dreamy solitude faded lamentably away. + +Yet how beautiful it was! this golden meadow walled with far, violet +mountains, breathless under a May sun; and in the midst, rising from +tangles of asphodel and acanthus, vast in the vacant plain, three +temples, one silver gray, one golden gray, and one flushed with +intangible rose. And all around nothing but velvet meadows stretching +from the dim mountains behind, away to the sea, that showed only as a +thin line of silver just over the edge of the still grass. + +The tide of tourists swept noisily through the Basilica and the temple +of Poseidon across the meadow to the distant temple of Ceres, and Tom +and I were left alone to drink in all the fine wine of dreams that was +possible in the time left us. We gave but little space to examining the +temples the tourists had left, but in a few moments found ourselves +lying in the grass to the east of Poseidon, looking dimly out towards +the sea, heard now, but not seen,--a vague and pulsating murmur that +blended with the humming of bees all about us. + +A small shepherd boy, with a woolly dog, made shy advances of +friendship, and in a little time we had set him to gathering flowers for +us: asphodels and bee-orchids, anemones, and the little thin green iris +so fairylike and frail. The murmur of the tourist crowd had merged +itself in the moan of the sea, and it was very still; suddenly I heard +the words I had been waiting for,--the suggestion I had refrained from +making myself, for I knew Thomas. + +"I say, old man, shall we let the 2.46 go to thunder?" + +I chuckled to myself. "But the Turners?" + +"They be blowed, we can tell them we missed the train." + +"That is just exactly what we shall do," I said, pulling out my watch, +"unless we start for the station right now." + +But Tom drew an acanthus leaf across his face and showed no signs of +moving; so I filled my pipe again, and we missed the train. + +As the sun dropped lower towards the sea, changing its silver line to +gold, we pulled ourselves together, and for an hour or more sketched +vigorously; but the mood was not on us. It was "too jolly fine to waste +time working," as Tom said; so we started off to explore the single +street of the squalid town of Pesto that was lost within the walls of +dead Poseidonia. It was not a pretty village,--if you can call a +rut-riven lane and a dozen houses a village,--nor were the inhabitants +thereof reassuring in appearance. There was no sign of a +church,--nothing but dirty huts, and in the midst, one of two stories, +rejoicing in the name of _Albergo del Sole_, the first story of which +was a black and cavernous smithy, where certain swarthy knaves, looking +like banditti out of a job, sat smoking sulkily. + +"We might stay here all night," said Tom, grinning askance at this +choice company; but his suggestion was not received with enthusiasm. + +Down where the lane from the station joined the main road stood the only +sign of modern civilization,--a great square structure, half villa, half +fortress, with round turrets on its four corners, and a ten-foot wall +surrounding it. There were no windows in its first story, so far as we +could see, and it had evidently been at one time the fortified villa of +some Campanian noble. Now, however, whether because brigandage had been +stamped out, or because the villa was empty and deserted, it was no +longer formidable; the gates of the great wall hung sagging on their +hinges, brambles growing all over them, and many of the windows in the +upper story were broken and black. It was a strange place, weird and +mysterious, and we looked at it curiously. "There is a story about that +place," said Tom, with conviction. + +It was growing late: the sun was near the edge of the sea as we walked +down the ivy-grown walls of the vanished city for the last time, and as +we turned back, a red flush poured from the west, and painted the Doric +temples in pallid rose against the evanescent purple of the Apennines. +Already a thin mist was rising from the meadows, and the temples hung +pink in the misty grayness. + +It was a sorrow to leave the beautiful things, but we could run no risk +of missing this last train, so we walked slowly back towards the +temples. + +"What is that Johnny waving his arm at us for?" asked Tom, suddenly. + +"How should I know? We are not on his land, and the walls don't matter." + +We pulled out our watches simultaneously. + +"What time are you?" I said. + +"Six minutes before six." + +"And I am seven minutes. It can't take us all that time to walk to the +station." + +"Are you sure the train goes at 6.11?" + +"Dead sure," I answered; and showed him the _Indicatore_. + +By this time a woman and two children were shrieking at us hysterically; +but what they said I had no idea, their Italian being of a strange and +awful nature. + +"Look here," I said, "let's run; perhaps our watches are both slow." + +"Or--perhaps the time-table is changed." + +Then we ran, and the populace cheered and shouted with enthusiasm; our +dignified run became a panic-stricken rout, for as we turned into the +lane, smoke was rising from beyond the bank that hid the railroad; a +bell rang; we were so near that we could hear the interrogative +_Pronte?_ the impatient _Partenza!_ and the definitive _Andiamo!_ But +the train was five hundred yards away, steaming towards Naples, when we +plunged into the station as the clock struck six, and yelled for the +station-master. + +He came, and we indulged in crimination and recrimination. + +When we could regard the situation calmly, it became apparent that the +time-table _had_ been changed two days before, the 6.11 now leaving at +5.58. A _facchino_ came in, and we four sat down and regarded the +situation judicially. + +"Was there any other train?" + +"No." + +"Could we stay at the Albergo del Sole?" + +A forefinger drawn across the throat by the Capo Stazione with a +significant "cluck" closed that question. + +"Then we must stay with you here at the station." + +"But, Signori, I am not married. I live here only with the _facchini_. I +have only one room to sleep in. It is impossible!" + +"But we must sleep somewhere, likewise eat. What can we do?" and we +shifted the responsibility deftly on the shoulders of the poor old man, +who was growing excited again. + +He trotted nervously up and down the station for a minute, then he +called the _facchino_. "Giuseppe, go up to the villa and ask if two +_forestieri_ who have missed the last train can stay there all night!" + +Protests were useless. The _facchino_ was gone, and we waited anxiously +for his return. It seemed as though he would never come. Darkness had +fallen, and the moon was rising over the mountains. At last he appeared. + +"The Signori may stay all night, and welcome; but they cannot come to +dinner, for there is nothing in the house to eat!" + +This was not reassuring, and again the old station-master lost himself +in meditation. The results were admirable, for in a little time the +table in the waiting-room had been transformed into a dining-table, and +Tom and I were ravenously devouring a big omelette, and bread and +cheese, and drinking a most shocking sour wine as though it were Chateau +Yquem. A _facchino_ served us, with clumsy good-will; and when we had +induced our nervous old host to sit down with us and partake of his own +hospitality, we succeeded in forming a passably jolly dinner-party, +forgetting over our sour wine and cigarettes the coming hours from ten +until sunrise, which lay before us in a dubious mist. + +It was with crowding apprehensions which we strove in vain to joke away +that we set out at last to retrace our steps to the mysterious villa, +the _facchino_ Giuseppe leading the way. By this time the moon was well +overhead, and just behind us as we tramped up the dewy lane, white in +the moonlight between the ink-black hedgerows on either side. How still +it was! Not a breath of air, not a sound of life; only the awful silence +that had lain almost unbroken for two thousand years over this vast +graveyard of a dead world. + +As we passed between the shattered gates and wound our way in the +moonlight through the maze of gnarled fruit-trees, decaying farm +implements and piles of lumber, towards the small door that formed the +only opening in the first story of this deserted fortress, the cold +silence was shattered by the harsh baying of dogs somewhere in the +distance to the right, beyond the barns that formed one side of the +court. From the villa came neither light nor sound. Giuseppe knocked at +the weather-worn door, and the sound echoed cavernously within; but +there was no other reply. He knocked again and again, and at length we +heard the rasping jar of sliding bolts, and the door opened a little, +showing an old, old man, bent with age and gaunt with malaria. Over his +head he held a big Roman lamp, with three wicks, that cast strange +shadows on his face,--a face that was harmless in its senility, but +intolerably sad. He made no reply to our timid salutations, but motioned +tremblingly to us to enter; and with a last "good-night" to Giuseppe we +obeyed, and stood half-way up the stone stairs that led directly from +the door, while the old man tediously shot every bolt and adjusted the +heavy bar. + +Then we followed him in the semi-darkness up the steps into what had +been the great hall of the villa. A fire was burning in a great +fireplace so beautiful in design that Tom and I looked at each other +with interest. By its fitful light we could see that we were in a huge +circular room covered by a flat, saucer-shaped dome,--a room that must +once have been superb and splendid, but that now was a lamentable wreck. +The frescoes on the dome were stained and mildewed, and here and there +the plaster was gone altogether; the carved doorways that led out on all +sides had lost half the gold with which they had once been covered, and +the floor was of brick, sunken into treacherous valleys. Rough chests, +piles of old newspapers, fragments of harnesses, farm implements, a heap +of rusty carbines and cutlasses, nameless litter of every possible kind, +made the room into a wilderness which under the firelight seemed even +more picturesque than it really was. And on this inexpressible confusion +of lumber the pale shapes of the seventeenth-century nymphs, startling +in their weather-stained nudity, looked down with vacant smiles. + +For a few moments we warmed ourselves before the fire; and then, in the +same dejected silence, the old man led the way to one of the many doors, +handed us a brass lamp, and with a stiff bow turned his back on us. + +Once in our room alone, Tom and I looked at each other with faces that +expressed the most complex emotions. + +"Well, of all the rum goes," said Tom, "this is the rummiest go I ever +experienced!" + +"Right, my boy; as you very justly remark, we are in for it. Help me +shut this door, and then we will reconnoitre, take account of stock, and +size up our chances." + +But the door showed no sign of closing; it grated on the brick floor and +stuck in the warped casing, and it took our united efforts to jam the +two inches of oak into its place, and turn the enormous old key in its +rusty lock. + +"Better now, much better now," said Tom; "now let us see where we are." + +The room was easily twenty-five feet square, and high in proportion; +evidently it had been a state apartment, for the walls were covered with +carved panelling that had once been white and gold, with mirrors in the +panels, the wood now stained every imaginable color, the mirrors +cracked and broken, and dull with mildew. A big fire had just been +lighted in the fireplace, the shutters were closed, and although the +only furniture consisted of two massive bedsteads, and a chair with one +leg shorter than the others, the room seemed almost comfortable. + +I opened one of the shutters, that closed the great windows that ran +from the floor almost to the ceiling, and nearly fell through the +cracked glass into the floorless balcony. "Tom, come here, quick," I +cried; and for a few minutes neither of us thought about our dubious +surroundings, for we were looking at Paestum by moonlight. + +A flat, white mist, like water, lay over the entire meadow; from the +midst rose against the blue-black sky the three ghostly temples, black +and silver in the vivid moonlight, floating, it seemed, in the fog; and +behind them, seen in broken glints between the pallid shafts, stretched +the line of the silver sea. + +Perfect silence,--the silence of implacable death. + +We watched the white tide of mist rise around the temples, until we were +chilled through, and so presently went to bed. There was but one door +in the room, and that was securely locked; the great windows were twenty +feet from the ground, so we felt reasonably safe from all possible +attack. + +In a few minutes Tom was asleep and breathing audibly; but my +constitution is more nervous than his, and I lay awake for some little +time, thinking of our curious adventure and of its possible outcome. +Finally, I fell asleep,--for how long I do not know: but I woke with the +feeling that some one had tried the handle of the door. The fire had +fallen into a heap of coals which cast a red glow in the room, whereby I +could see dimly the outline of Tom's bed, the broken-legged chair in +front of the fireplace, and the door in its deep casing by the chimney, +directly in front of my bed. I sat up, nervous from my sudden awakening +under these strange circumstances, and stared at the door. The latch +rattled, and the door swung smoothly open. I began to shiver coldly. +That door was locked; Tom and I had all we could do to jam it together +and lock it. But we _did_ lock it; and now it was opening silently. In a +minute more it as silently closed. + +Then I heard a footstep,--I swear I heard a footstep _in the room_, and +with it the _frou-frou_ of trailing skirts; my breath stopped and my +teeth grated against each other as I heard the soft footfalls and the +feminine rustle pass along the room towards the fireplace. My eyes saw +nothing; yet there was enough light in the room for me to distinguish +the pattern on the carved panels of the door. The steps stopped by the +fire, and I saw the broken-legged chair lean to the left, with a little +jar as its short leg touched the floor. + +I sat still, frozen, motionless, staring at the vacancy that was filled +with such terror for me; and as I looked, the seat of the chair creaked, +and it came back to its upright position again. + +And then the footsteps came down the room lightly, towards the window; +there was a pause, and then the great shutters swung back, and the white +moonlight poured in. Its brilliancy was unbroken by any shadow, by any +sign of material substance. + +I tried to cry out, to make some sound, to awaken Tom; this sense of +utter loneliness in the presence of the Inexplicable was maddening. I +don't know whether my lips obeyed my will or no; at all events, Tom lay +motionless, with his deaf ear up, and gave no sign. + +The shutters closed as silently as they had opened; the moonlight was +gone, the firelight also, and in utter darkness I waited. If I could +only _see_! If something were visible, I should not mind it so much; but +this ghastly hearing of every little sound, every rustle of a gown, +every breath, yet seeing nothing, was soul-destroying. I think in my +abject terror I prayed that I might see, only see; but the darkness was +unbroken. + +Then the footsteps began to waver fitfully, and I heard the rustle of +garments sliding to the floor, the clatter of little shoes flung down, +the rattle of buttons, and of metal against wood. + +Rigors shot over me, and my whole body shivered with collapse as I sank +back on the pillow, waiting with every nerve tense, listening with all +my life. + +The coverlid was turned back beside me, and in another moment the great +bed sank a little as something slipped between the sheets with an +audible sigh. + +I called to my aid every atom of remaining strength, and, with a cry +that shivered between my clattering teeth, I hurled myself headlong from +the bed on to the floor. + +I must have lain for some time stunned and unconscious, for when I +finally came to myself it was cold in the room, there was no last glow +of lingering coals in the fireplace, and I was stiff with chill. + +It all flashed over me like the haunting of a heavy dream. I laughed a +little at the dim memory, with the thought, "I must try to recollect all +the details; they will do to tell Tom," and rose stiffly to return to +bed, when--there it was again, and my heart stopped,--the hand on the +door. + +I paused and listened. The door opened with a muffled creak, closed +again, and I heard the lock turn rustily. I would have died now before +getting into that bed again; but there was terror equally without; so I +stood trembling and listened,--listened to heavy, stealthy steps +creeping along on the other side of the bed. I clutched the coverlid, +staring across into the dark. + +There was a rush in the air by my face, the sound of a blow, and +simultaneously a shriek, so awful, so despairing, so blood-curdling that +I felt my senses leaving me again as I sank crouching on the floor by +the bed. + +And then began the awful duel, the duel of invisible, audible shapes; +of things that shrieked and raved, mingling thin, feminine cries with +low, stifled curses and indistinguishable words. Round and round the +room, footsteps chasing footsteps in the ghastly night, now away by +Tom's bed, now rushing swiftly down the great room until I felt the +flash of swirling drapery on my hard lips. Round and round, turning and +twisting till my brain whirled with the mad cries. + +They were coming nearer. I felt the jar of their feet on the floor +beside me. Came one long, gurgling moan close over my head, and then, +crushing down upon me, the weight of a collapsing body; there was long +hair over my face, and in my staring eyes; and as awful silence +succeeded the less awful tumult, life went out, and I fell unfathomable +miles into nothingness. + +The gray dawn was sifting through the chinks in the shutters when I +opened my eyes again. I lay stunned and faint, staring up at the mouldy +frescoes on the ceiling, struggling to gather together my wandering +senses and knit them into something like consciousness. But now as I +pulled myself little by little together there was no thought of dreams +before me. One after another the awful incidents of that unspeakable +night came back, and I lay incapable of movement, of action, trying to +piece together the whirling fragments of memory that circled dizzily +around me. + +Little by little it grew lighter in the room. I could see the pallid +lines struggling through the shutters behind me, grow stronger along the +broken and dusty floor. The tarnished mirrors reflected dirtily the +growing daylight; a door closed, far away, and I heard the crowing of a +cock; then by and by the whistle of a passing train. + +Years seemed to have passed since I first came into this terrible room. +I had lost the use of my tongue, my voice refused to obey my +panic-stricken desire to cry out; once or twice I tried in vain to force +an articulate sound through my rigid lips; and when at last a broken +whisper rewarded my feverish struggles, I felt a strange sense of great +victory. How soundly he slept! Ordinarily, rousing him was no easy task, +and now he revolted steadily against being awakened at this untimely +hour. It seemed to me that I had called him for ages almost, before I +heard him grunt sleepily and turn in bed. + +"Tom," I cried weakly, "Tom, come and help me!" + +"What do you want? what is the matter with you?" + +"Don't ask, come and help me!" + +"Fallen out of bed I guess;" and he laughed drowsily. + +My abject terror lest he should go to sleep again gave me new strength. +Was it the actual physical paralysis born of killing fear that held me +down? I could not have raised my head from the floor on my life; I could +only cry out in deadly fear for Tom to come and help me. + +"Why don't you get up and get into bed?" he answered, when I implored +him to come to me. "You have got a bad nightmare; wake up!" + +But something in my voice roused him at last, and he came chuckling +across the room, stopping to throw open two of the great shutters and +let a burst of white light into the room. He climbed up on the bed and +peered over jeeringly. With the first glance the laugh died, and he +leaped the bed and bent over me. + +"My God, man, what is the matter with you? You are hurt!" + +"I don't know what is the matter; lift me up, get me away from here, and +I'll tell you all I know." + +"But, old chap, you must be hurt awfully; the floor is covered with +blood!" + +He lifted my head and held me in his powerful arms. I looked down: a +great red stain blotted the floor beside me. + +But, apart from the black bruise on my head, there was no sign of a +wound on my body, nor stain of blood on my lips. In as few words as +possible I told him the whole story. + +"Let's get out of this," he said when I had finished; "this is no place +for us. Brigands I can stand, but--" + +He helped me to dress, and as soon as possible we forced open the heavy +door, the door I had seen turn so softly on its hinges only a few hours +before, and came out into the great circular hall, no less strange and +mysterious now in the half light of dawn than it had been by firelight. +The room was empty, for it must have been very early, although a fire +already blazed in the fireplace. We sat by the fire some time, seeing no +one. Presently slow footsteps sounded in the stairway, and the old man +entered, silent as the night before, nodding to us civilly, but showing +by no sign any surprise which he may have felt at our early rising. In +absolute silence he moved around, preparing coffee for us; and when at +last the frugal breakfast was ready, and we sat around the rough table +munching coarse bread and sipping the black coffee, he would reply to +our overtures only by monosyllables. + +Any attempt at drawing from him some facts as to the history of the +villa was received with a grave and frigid repellence that baffled us; +and we were forced to say _addio_ with our hunger for some explanation +of the events of the night still unsatisfied. + +But we saw the temples by sunrise, when the mistlike lambent opals +bathed the bases of the tall columns salmon in the morning light! It was +a rhapsody in the pale and unearthly colors of Puvis de Chavannes +vitalized and made glorious with splendid sunlight; the apotheosis of +mist; a vision never before seen, never to be forgotten. It was so +beautiful that the memory of my ghastly night paled and faded, and it +was Tom who assailed the station-master with questions while we waited +for the train from Agropoli. + +Luckily he was more than loquacious, he was voluble under the +ameliorating influence of the money we forced upon him; and this, in few +words, was the story he told us while we sat on the platform smoking, +marvelling at the mists that rose to the east, now veiling, now +revealing the lavender Apennines. + +"Is there a story of _La Villa Bianca_?" + +"Ah, Signori, certainly; and a story very strange and very terrible. It +was much time ago, a hundred,--two hundred years; I do not know. Well, +the Duca di San Damiano married a lady so fair, so most beautiful that +she was called _La Luna di Pesto_; but she was of the people,--more, she +was of the banditti: her father was of Calabria, and a terror of the +Campagna. But the Duke was young, and he married her, and for her built +the white villa; and it was a wonder throughout Campania,--you have +seen? It is splendid now, even if a ruin. Well, it was less than a year +after they came to the villa before the Duke grew jealous,--jealous of +the new captain of the banditti who took the place of the father of _La +Luna_, himself killed in a great battle up there in the mountains. Was +there cause? Who shall know? But there were stories among the people of +terrible things in the villa, and how _La Luna_ was seen almost never +outside the walls. Then the Duke would go for many days to Napoli, +coming home only now and then to the villa that was become a fortress, +so many men guarded its never-opening gates. And once--it was in the +spring--the Duke came silently down from Napoli, and there, by the three +poplars you see away towards the north, his carriage was set upon by +armed men, and he was almost killed; but he had with him many guards, +and after a terrible fight the brigands were beaten off; but before him, +wounded, lay the captain,--the man whom he feared and hated. He looked +at him, lying there under the torchlight, and in his hand saw _his own +sword_. Then he became a devil: with the same sword he ran the brigand +through, leaped in the carriage, and, entering the villa, crept to the +chamber of _La Luna_, and killed her with the sword she had given to her +lover. + +"This is all the story of the White Villa, except that the Duke came +never again to Pesto. He went back to the king at Napoli, and for many +years he was the scourge of the banditti of Campania; for the King made +him a general, and San Damiano was a name feared by the lawless and +loved by the peaceful, until he was killed in a battle down by Mormanno. + +"And _La Luna_? Some say she comes back to the villa, once a year, when +the moon is full, in the month when she was slain; for the Duke buried +her, they say, with his own hands, in the garden that was once under the +window of her chamber; and as she died unshriven, so was she buried +without the pale of the Church. Therefore she cannot sleep in +peace,--_non e vero_? I do not know if the story is true, but this is +the story, Signori, and there is the train for Napoli. _Ah, grazie! +Signori, grazie tanto! A rivederci! Signori, a rivederci!_" + + + + +SISTER MADDELENA. + + + + +Sister Maddelena. + + +Across the valley of the Oreto from Monreale, on the slopes of the +mountains just above the little village of Parco, lies the old convent +of Sta. Catarina. From the cloister terrace at Monreale you can see its +pale walls and the slim campanile of its chapel rising from the crowded +citron and mulberry orchards that flourish, rank and wild, no longer +cared for by pious and loving hands. From the rough road that climbs the +mountains to Assunto, the convent is invisible, a gnarled and ragged +olive grove intervening, and a spur of cliffs as well, while from +Palermo one sees only the speck of white, flashing in the sun, +indistinguishable from the many similar gleams of desert monastery or +pauper village. + +Partly because of this seclusion, partly by reason of its extreme +beauty, partly, it may be, because the present owners are more than +charming and gracious in their pressing hospitality, Sta. Catarina seems +to preserve an element of the poetic, almost magical; and as I drove +with the Cavaliere Valguanera one evening in March out of Palermo, along +the garden valley of the Oreto, then up the mountain side where the warm +light of the spring sunset swept across from Monreale, lying golden and +mellow on the luxuriant growth of figs, and olives, and orange-trees, +and fantastic cacti, and so up to where the path of the convent swung +off to the right round a dizzy point of cliff that reached out gaunt and +gray from the olives below,--as I drove thus in the balmy air, and saw +of a sudden a vision of creamy walls and orange roofs, draped in +fantastic festoons of roses, with a single curving palm-tree stuck black +and feathery against the gold sunset, it is hardly to be wondered at +that I should slip into a mood of visionary enjoyment, looking for a +time on the whole thing as the misty phantasm of a summer dream. + +The Cavaliere had introduced himself to us,--Tom Rendel and me,--one +morning soon after we reached Palermo, when, in the first bewilderment +of architects in this paradise of art and color, we were working nobly +at our sketches in that dream of delight, the Capella Palatina. He was +himself an amateur archaeologist, he told us, and passionately devoted to +his island; so he felt impelled to speak to any one whom he saw +appreciating the almost--and in a way fortunately--unknown beauties of +Palermo. In a little time we were fully acquainted, and talking like the +oldest friends. Of course he knew acquaintances of Rendel's,--some one +always does: this time they were officers on the tubby U. S. S. +"Quinebaug," that, during the summer of 1888, was trying to uphold the +maritime honor of the United States in European waters. Luckily for us, +one of the officers was a kind of cousin of Rendel's, and came from +Baltimore as well, so, as he had visited at the Cavaliere's place, we +were soon invited to do the same. It was in this way that, with the luck +that attends Rendel wherever he goes, we came to see something of +domestic life in Italy, and that I found myself involved in another of +those adventures for which I naturally sought so little. + +I wonder if there is any other place in Sicily so faultless as Sta. +Catarina? Taormina is a paradise, an epitome of all that is beautiful in +Italy,--Venice excepted. Girgenti is a solemn epic, with its golden +temples between the sea and hills. Cefalu is wild and strange, and +Monreale a vision out of a fairy tale; but Sta. Catarina!-- + +Fancy a convent of creamy stone and rose-red brick perched on a ledge of +rock midway between earth and heaven, the cliff falling almost sheer to +the valley two hundred feet and more, the mountain rising behind +straight towards the sky; all the rocks covered with cactus and dwarf +fig-trees, the convent draped in smothering roses, and in front a +terrace with a fountain in the midst; and then--nothing--between you and +the sapphire sea, six miles away. Below stretches the Eden valley, the +Concha d'Oro, gold-green fig orchards alternating with smoke-blue +olives, the mountains rising on either hand and sinking undulously away +towards the bay where, like a magic city of ivory and nacre, Palermo +lies guarded by the twin mountains, Monte Pellegrino and Capo Zafferano, +arid rocks like dull amethysts, rose in sunlight, violet in shadow: +lions couchant, guarding the sleeping town. + +Seen as we saw it for the first time that hot evening in March, with the +golden lambent light pouring down through the valley, making it in +verity a "shell of gold," sitting in Indian chairs on the terrace, with +the perfume of roses and jasmines all around us, the valley of the +Oreto, Palermo, Sta. Catarina, Monreale,--all were but parts of a dreamy +vision, like the heavenly city of Sir Percivale, to attain which he +passed across the golden bridge that burned after him as he vanished in +the intolerable light of the Beatific Vision. + +It was all so unreal, so phantasmal, that I was not surprised in the +least when, late in the evening after the ladies had gone to their +rooms, and the Cavaliere, Tom, and I were stretched out in chairs on the +terrace, smoking lazily under the multitudinous stars, the Cavaliere +said, "There is something I really must tell you both before you go to +bed, so that you may be spared any unnecessary alarm." + +"You are going to say that the place is haunted," said Rendel, feeling +vaguely on the floor beside him for his glass of Amaro: "thank you; it +is all it needs." + +The Cavaliere smiled a little: "Yes, that is just it. Sta. Catarina is +really haunted; and much as my reason revolts against the idea as +superstitious and savoring of priestcraft, yet I must acknowledge I see +no way of avoiding the admission. I do not presume to offer any +explanations, I only state the fact; and the fact is that to-night one +or other of you will, in all human--or unhuman--probability, receive a +visit from Sister Maddelena. You need not be in the least afraid, the +apparition is perfectly gentle and harmless; and, moreover, having seen +it once, you will never see it again. No one sees the ghost, or whatever +it is, but once, and that usually the first night he spends in the +house. I myself saw the thing eight--nine years ago, when I first bought +the place from the Marchese di Muxaro; all my people have seen it, +nearly all my guests, so I think you may as well be prepared." + +"Then tell us what to expect," I said; "what kind of a ghost is this +nocturnal visitor?" + +"It is simple enough. Some time to-night you will suddenly awake and see +before you a Carmelite nun who will look fixedly at you, say distinctly +and very sadly, 'I cannot sleep,' and then vanish. That is all, it is +hardly worth speaking of, only some people are terribly frightened if +they are visited unwarned by strange apparitions; so I tell you this +that you may be prepared." + +"This was a Carmelite convent, then?" I said. + +"Yes; it was suppressed after the unification of Italy, and given to the +House of Muxaro; but the family died out, and I bought it. There is a +story about the ghostly nun, who was only a novice, and even that +unwillingly, which gives an interest to an otherwise very commonplace +and uninteresting ghost." + +"I beg that you will tell it us," cried Rendel. + +"There is a storm coming," I added. "See, the lightning is flashing +already up among the mountains at the head of the valley; if the story +is tragic, as it must be, now is just the time for it. You will tell it, +will you not?" + +The Cavaliere smiled that slow, cryptic smile of his that was so +unfathomable. + +"As you say, there is a shower coming, and as we have fierce tempests +here, we might not sleep; so perhaps we may as well sit up a little +longer, and I will tell you the story." + +The air was utterly still, hot and oppressive; the rich, sick odor of +the oranges just bursting into bloom came up from the valley in a gently +rising tide. The sky, thick with stars, seemed mirrored in the rich +foliage below, so numerous were the glow-worms under the still trees, +and the fireflies that gleamed in the hot air. Lightning flashed +fitfully from the darkening west; but as yet no thunder broke the heavy +silence. + +The Cavaliere lighted another cigar, and pulled a cushion under his head +so that he could look down to the distant lights of the city. "This is +the story," he said. + +"Once upon a time, late in the last century, the Duca di Castiglione was +attached to the court of Charles III., King of the Two Sicilies, down at +Palermo. They tell me he was very ambitious, and, not content with +marrying his son to one of the ladies of the House of Tuscany, had +betrothed his only daughter, Rosalia, to Prince Antonio, a cousin of the +king. His whole life was wrapped up in the fame of his family, and he +quite forgot all domestic affection in his madness for dynastic glory. +His son was a worthy scion, cold and proud; but Rosalia was, according +to legend, utterly the reverse,--a passionate, beautiful girl, wilful +and headstrong, and careless of her family and the world. + +"The time had nearly come for her to marry Prince Antonio, a typical +_roue_ of the Spanish court, when, through the treachery of a servant, +the Duke discovered that his daughter was in love with a young military +officer whose name I don't remember, and that an elopement had been +planned to take place the next night. The fury and dismay of the old +autocrat passed belief; he saw in a flash the downfall of all his hopes +of family aggrandizement through union with the royal house, and, +knowing well the spirit of his daughter, despaired of ever bringing her +to subjection. Nevertheless, he attacked her unmercifully, and, by +bullying and threats, by imprisonment, and even bodily chastisement, he +tried to break her spirit and bend her to his indomitable will. Through +his power at court he had the lover sent away to the mainland, and for +more than a year he held his daughter closely imprisoned in his palace +on the Toledo,--that one, you may remember, on the right, just beyond +the Via del Collegio dei Gesuiti, with the beautiful iron-work grilles +at all the windows, and the painted frieze. But nothing could move her, +nothing bend her stubborn will; and at last, furious at the girl he +could not govern, Castiglione sent her to this convent, then one of the +few houses of barefoot Carmelite nuns in Italy. He stipulated that she +should take the name of Maddelena, that he should never hear of her +again, and that she should be held an absolute prisoner in this +conventual castle. + +"Rosalia--or Sister Maddelena, as she was now--believed her lover dead, +for her father had given her good proofs of this, and she believed him; +nevertheless she refused to marry another, and seized upon the convent +life as a blessed relief from the tyranny of her maniacal father. + +"She lived here for four or five years; her name was forgotten at court +and in her father's palace. Rosalia di Castiglione was dead, and only +Sister Maddelena lived, a Carmelite nun, in her place. + +"In 1798 Ferdinand IV. found himself driven from his throne on the +mainland, his kingdom divided, and he himself forced to flee to Sicily. +With him came the lover of the dead Rosalia, now high in military honor. +He on his part had thought Rosalia dead, and it was only by accident +that he found that she still lived, a Carmelite nun. Then began the +second act of the romance that until then had been only sadly +commonplace, but now became dark and tragic. Michele--Michele +Biscari,--that was his name; I remember now--haunted the region of the +convent, striving to communicate with Sister Maddelena; and at last, +from the cliffs over us, up there among the citrons--you will see by the +next flash of lightning--he saw her in the great cloister, recognized +her in her white habit, found her the same dark and splendid beauty of +six years before, only made more beautiful by her white habit and her +rigid life. By and by he found a day when she was alone, and tossed a +ring to her as she stood in the midst of the cloister. She looked up, +saw him, and from that moment lived only to love him in life as she had +loved his memory in the death she had thought had overtaken him. + +"With the utmost craft they arranged their plans together. They could +not speak, for a word would have aroused the other inmates of the +convent. They could make signs only when Sister Maddelena was alone. +Michele could throw notes to her from the cliff,--a feat demanding a +strong arm, as you will see, if you measure the distance with your +eye,--and she could drop replies from the window over the cliff, which +he picked up at the bottom. Finally he succeeded in casting into the +cloister a coil of light rope. The girl fastened it to the bars of one +of the windows, and--so great is the madness of love--Biscari actually +climbed the rope from the valley to the window of the cell, a distance +of almost two hundred feet, with but three little craggy resting-places +in all that height. For nearly a month these nocturnal visits were +undiscovered, and Michele had almost completed his arrangements for +carrying the girl from Sta. Catarina and away to Spain, when +unfortunately one of the sisters, suspecting some mystery, from the +changed face of Sister Maddelena, began investigating, and at length +discovered the rope neatly coiled up by the nun's window, and hidden +under some clinging vines. She instantly told the Mother Superior; and +together they watched from a window in the crypt of the chapel,--the +only place, as you will see to-morrow, from which one could see the +window of Sister Maddelena's cell. They saw the figure of Michele +daringly ascending the slim rope; watched hour after hour, the Sister +remaining while the Superior went to say the hours in the chapel, at +each of which Sister Maddelena was present; and at last, at prime, just +as the sun was rising, they saw the figure slip down the rope, watched +the rope drawn up and concealed, and knew that Sister Maddelena was in +their hands for vengeance and punishment,--a criminal. + +"The next day, by the order of the Mother Superior, Sister Maddelena was +imprisoned in one of the cells under the chapel, charged with her guilt, +and commanded to make full and complete confession. But not a word would +she say, although they offered her forgiveness if she would tell the +name of her lover. At last the Superior told her that after this fashion +would they act the coming night: she herself would be placed in the +crypt, tied in front of the window, her mouth gagged; that the rope +would be lowered, and the lover allowed to approach even to the sill of +her window, and at that moment the rope would be cut, and before her +eyes her lover would be dashed to death on the ragged cliffs. The plan +was feasible, and Sister Maddelena knew that the Mother was perfectly +capable of carrying it out. Her stubborn spirit was broken, and in the +only way possible; she begged for mercy, for the sparing of her lover. +The Mother Superior was deaf at first; at last she said, 'It is your +life or his. I will spare him on condition that you sacrifice your own +life.' Sister Maddelena accepted the terms joyfully, wrote a last +farewell to Michele, fastened the note to the rope, and with her own +hands cut the rope and saw it fall coiling down to the valley bed far +below. + +"Then she silently prepared for death; and at midnight, while her lover +was wandering, mad with the horror of impotent fear, around the white +walls of the convent, Sister Maddelena, for love of Michele, gave up her +life. How, was never known. That she was indeed dead was only a +suspicion, for when Biscari finally compelled the civil authorities to +enter the convent, claiming that murder had been done there, they found +no sign. Sister Maddelena had been sent to the parent house of the +barefoot Carmelites at Avila in Spain, so the Superior stated, because +of her incorrigible contumacy. The old Duke of Castiglione refused to +stir hand or foot in the matter, and Michele, after fruitless attempts +to prove that the Superior of Sta. Catarina had caused the death, was +forced to leave Sicily. He sought in Spain for very long; but no sign of +the girl was to be found, and at last he died, exhausted with suffering +and sorrow. + +"Even the name of Sister Maddelena was forgotten, and it was not until +the convents were suppressed, and this house came into the hands of the +Muxaros, that her story was remembered. It was then that the ghost began +to appear; and, an explanation being necessary, the story, or legend, +was obtained from one of the nuns who still lived after the suppression. +I think the fact--for it is a fact--of the ghost rather goes to prove +that Michele was right, and that poor Rosalia gave her life a sacrifice +for love,--whether in accordance with the terms of the legend or not, I +cannot say. One or the other of you will probably see her to-night. You +might ask her for the facts. Well, that is all the story of Sister +Maddelena, known in the world as Rosalia di Castiglione. Do you like +it?" + +"It is admirable," said Rendel, enthusiastically. "But I fancy I should +rather look on it simply as a story, and not as a warning of what is +going to happen. I don't much fancy real ghosts myself." + +"But the poor Sister is quite harmless;" and Valguanera rose, stretching +himself. "My servants say she wants a mass said over her, or something +of that kind; but I haven't much love for such priestly hocus-pocus,--I +beg your pardon" (turning to me), "I had forgotten that you were a +Catholic: forgive my rudeness." + +"My dear Cavaliere, I beg you not to apologize. I am sorry you cannot +see things as I do; but don't for a moment think I am hypersensitive." + +"I have an excuse,--perhaps you will say only an explanation; but I live +where I see all the absurdities and corruptions of the Church." + +"Perhaps you let the accidents blind you to the essentials; but do not +let us quarrel to-night,--see, the storm is close on us. Shall we go +in?" + +The stars were blotted out through nearly all the sky; low, thunderous +clouds, massed at the head of the valley, were sweeping over so close +that they seemed to brush the black pines on the mountain above us. To +the south and east the storm-clouds had shut down almost to the sea, +leaving a space of black sky where the moon in its last quarter was +rising just to the left of Monte Pellegrino,--a black silhouette against +the pallid moonlight. The rosy lightning flashed almost incessantly, and +through the fitful darkness came the sound of bells across the valley, +the rushing torrent below, and the dull roar of the approaching rain, +with a deep organ point of solemn thunder through it all. + +We fled indoors from the coming tempest, and taking our candles, said +"good-night," and sought each his respective room. + +My own was in the southern part of the old convent, giving on the +terrace we had just quitted, and about over the main doorway. The +rushing storm, as it swept down the valley with the swelling torrent +beneath, was very fascinating, and after wrapping myself in a +dressing-gown I stood for some time by the deeply embrasured window, +watching the blazing lightning and the beating rain whirled by fitful +gusts of wind around the spurs of the mountains. Gradually the violence +of the shower seemed to decrease, and I threw myself down on my bed in +the hot air, wondering if I really was to experience the ghostly visit +the Cavaliere so confidently predicted. + +I had thought out the whole matter to my own satisfaction, and fancied I +knew exactly what I should do, in case Sister Maddelena came to visit +me. The story touched me: the thought of the poor faithful girl who +sacrificed herself for her lover,--himself, very likely, quite +unworthy,--and who now could never sleep for reason of her unquiet soul, +sent out into the storm of eternity without spiritual aid or counsel. I +could not sleep; for the still vivid lightning, the crowding thoughts of +the dead nun, and the shivering anticipation of my possible visitation, +made slumber quite out of the question. No suspicion of sleepiness had +visited me, when, perhaps an hour after midnight, came a sudden vivid +flash of lightning, and, as my dazzled eyes began to regain the power of +sight, I saw her as plainly as in life,--a tall figure, shrouded in the +white habit of the Carmelites, her head bent, her hands clasped before +her. In another flash of lightning she slowly raised her head and looked +at me long and earnestly. She was very beautiful, like the Virgin of +Beltraffio in the National Gallery,--more beautiful than I had supposed +possible, her deep, passionate eyes very tender and pitiful in their +pleading, beseeching glance. I hardly think I was frightened, or even +startled, but lay looking steadily at her as she stood in the beating +lightning. + +Then she breathed, rather than articulated, with a voice that almost +brought tears, so infinitely sad and sorrowful was it, "I cannot sleep!" +and the liquid eyes grew more pitiful and questioning as bright tears +fell from them down the pale dark face. + +The figure began to move slowly towards the door, its eyes fixed on mine +with a look that was weary and almost agonized. I leaped from the bed +and stood waiting. A look of utter gratitude swept over the face, and, +turning, the figure passed through the doorway. + +Out into the shadow of the corridor it moved, like a drift of pallid +storm-cloud, and I followed, all natural and instinctive fear or +nervousness quite blotted out by the part I felt I was to play in giving +rest to a tortured soul. The corridors were velvet black; but the pale +figure floated before me always, an unerring guide, now but a thin mist +on the utter night, now white and clear in the bluish lightning through +some window or doorway. + +Down the stairway into the lower hall, across the refectory, where the +great frescoed Crucifixion flared into sudden clearness under the fitful +lightning, out into the silent cloister. + +It was very dark. I stumbled along the heaving bricks, now guiding +myself by a hand on the whitewashed wall, now by a touch on a column wet +with the storm. From all the eaves the rain was dripping on to the +pebbles at the foot of the arcade: a pigeon, startled from the capital +where it was sleeping, beat its way into the cloister close. Still the +white thing drifted before me to the farther side of the court, then +along the cloister at right angles, and paused before one of the many +doorways that led to the cells. + +A sudden blaze of fierce lightning, the last now of the fleeting trail +of storm, leaped around us, and in the vivid light I saw the white face +turned again with the look of overwhelming desire, of beseeching pathos, +that had choked my throat with an involuntary sob when first I saw +Sister Maddelena. In the brief interval that ensued after the flash, and +before the roaring thunder burst like the crash of battle over the +trembling convent, I heard again the sorrowful words, "I cannot sleep," +come from the impenetrable darkness. And when the lightning came again, +the white figure was gone. + +I wandered around the courtyard, searching in vain for Sister Maddelena, +even until the moonlight broke through the torn and sweeping fringes of +the storm. I tried the door where the white figure vanished: it was +locked; but I had found what I sought, and, carefully noting its +location, went back to my room, but not to sleep. + +In the morning the Cavaliere asked Rendel and me which of us had seen +the ghost, and I told him my story; then I asked him to grant me +permission to sift the thing to the bottom; and he courteously gave the +whole matter into my charge, promising that he would consent to +anything. + +I could hardly wait to finish breakfast; but no sooner was this done +than, forgetting my morning pipe, I started with Rendel and the +Cavaliere to investigate. + +"I am sure there is nothing in that cell," said Valguanera, when we came +in front of the door I had marked. "It is curious that you should have +chosen the door of the very cell that tradition assigns to Sister +Maddelena; but I have often examined that room myself, and I am sure +that there is no chance for anything to be concealed. In fact, I had the +floor taken up once, soon after I came here, knowing the room was that +of the mysterious Sister, and thinking that there, if anywhere, the +monastic crime would have taken place; still, we will go in, if you +like." + +He unlocked the door, and we entered, one of us, at all events, with a +beating heart. The cell was very small, hardly eight feet square. There +certainly seemed no opportunity for concealing a body in the tiny place; +and although I sounded the floor and walls, all gave a solid, heavy +answer,--the unmistakable sound of masonry. + +For the innocence of the floor the Cavaliere answered. He had, he said, +had it all removed, even to the curving surfaces of the vault below; yet +somewhere in this room the body of the murdered girl was concealed,--of +this I was certain. But where? There seemed no answer; and I was +compelled to give up the search for the moment, somewhat to the +amusement of Valguanera, who had watched curiously to see if I could +solve the mystery. + +But I could not forget the subject, and towards noon started on another +tour of investigation. I procured the keys from the Cavaliere, and +examined the cells adjoining; they were apparently the same, each with +its window opposite the door, and nothing-- Stay, were they the same? I +hastened into the suspected cell; it was as I thought: this cell, being +on the corner, could have had two windows, yet only one was visible, and +that to the left, at right angles with the doorway. Was it imagination? +As I sounded the wall opposite the door, where the other window should +be, I fancied that the sound was a trifle less solid and dull. I was +becoming excited. I dashed back to the cell on the right, and, forcing +open the little window, thrust my head out. + +It was found at last! In the smooth surface of the yellow wall was a +rough space, following approximately the shape of the other cell +windows, not plastered like the rest of the wall, but showing the shapes +of bricks through its thick coatings of whitewash. I turned with a gasp +of excitement and satisfaction: yes, the embrasure of the wall was deep +enough; what a wall it was!--four feet at least, and the opening of the +window reached to the floor, though the window itself was hardly three +feet square. I felt absolutely certain that the secret was solved, and +called the Cavaliere and Rendel, too excited to give them an explanation +of my theories. + +They must have thought me mad when I suddenly began scraping away at the +solid wall in front of the door; but in a few minutes they understood +what I was about, for under the coatings of paint and plaster appeared +the original bricks; and as my architectural knowledge had led me +rightly, the space I had cleared was directly over a vertical joint +between firm, workmanlike masonry on one hand, and rough amateurish work +on the other, bricks laid anyway, and without order or science. + +Rendel seized a pick, and was about to assail the rude wall, when I +stopped him. + +"Let us be careful," I said; "who knows what we may find?" So we set to +work digging out the mortar around a brick at about the level of our +eyes. + +How hard the mortar had become! But a brick yielded at last, and with +trembling fingers I detached it. Darkness within, yet beyond question +there was a cavity there, not a solid wall; and with infinite care we +removed another brick. Still the hole was too small to admit enough +light from the dimly illuminated cell. With a chisel we pried at the +sides of a large block of masonry, perhaps eight bricks in size. It +moved, and we softly slid it from its bed. + +Valguanera, who was standing watching us as we lowered the bricks to the +floor, gave a sudden cry, a cry like that of a frightened +woman,--terrible, coming from him. Yet there was cause. + +Framed by the ragged opening of the bricks, hardly seen in the dim +light, was a face, an ivory image, more beautiful than any antique bust, +but drawn and distorted by unspeakable agony: the lovely mouth half +open, as though gasping for breath; the eyes cast upward; and below, +slim chiselled hands crossed on the breast, but clutching the folds of +the white Carmelite habit, torture and agony visible in every tense +muscle, fighting against the determination of the rigid pose. + +We stood there breathless, staring at the pitiful sight, fascinated, +bewitched. So this was the secret. With fiendish ingenuity, the rigid +ecclesiastics had blocked up the window, then forced the beautiful +creature to stand in the alcove, while with remorseless hands and iron +hearts they had shut her into a living tomb. I had read of such things +in romance; but to find the verity here, before my eyes-- + +Steps came down the cloister, and with a simultaneous thought we sprang +to the door and closed it behind us. The room was sacred; that awful +sight was not for curious eyes. The gardener was coming to ask some +trivial question of Valguanera. The Cavaliere cut him short. "Pietro, go +down to Parco and ask Padre Stefano to come here at once." (I thanked +him with a glance.) "Stay!" He turned to me: "Signore, it is already two +o'clock and too late for mass, is it not?" + +I nodded. + +Valguanera thought a moment, then he said, "Bring two horses; the Signor +Americano will go with you,--do you understand?" Then, turning to me, +"You will go, will you not? I think you can explain matters to Padre +Stefano better than I." + +"Of course I will go, more than gladly." So it happened that after a +hasty luncheon I wound down the mountain to Parco, found Padre Stefano, +explained my errand to him, found him intensely eager and sympathetic, +and by five o'clock had him back at the convent with all that was +necessary for the resting of the soul of the dead girl. + +In the warm twilight, with the last light of the sunset pouring into the +little cell through the window where almost a century ago Rosalia had +for the last time said farewell to her lover, we gathered together to +speed her tortured soul on its journey, so long delayed. Nothing was +omitted; all the needful offices of the Church were said by Padre +Stefano, while the light in the window died away, and the flickering +flames of the candles carried by two of the acolytes from San Francesco +threw fitful flashes of pallid light into the dark recess where the +white face had prayed to Heaven for a hundred years. + +Finally, the Padre took the asperge from the hands of one of the +acolytes, and with a sign of the cross in benediction while he chanted +the _Asperges_, gently sprinkled the holy water on the upturned face. +Instantly the whole vision crumbled to dust, the face was gone, and +where once the candlelight had flickered on the perfect semblance of the +girl dead so very long, it now fell only on the rough bricks which +closed the window, bricks laid with frozen hearts by pitiless hands. + +But our task was not done yet. It had been arranged that Padre Stefano +should remain at the convent all night, and that as soon as midnight +made it possible he should say the first mass for the repose of the +girl's soul. We sat on the terrace talking over the strange events of +the last crowded hours, and I noted with satisfaction that the Cavaliere +no longer spoke of the Church with that hardness, which had hurt me so +often. It is true that the Padre was with us nearly all the time; but +not only was Valguanera courteous, he was almost sympathetic; and I +wondered if it might not prove that more than one soul benefited by the +untoward events of the day. + +With the aid of the astonished and delighted servants, and no little +help as well from Signora Valguanera, I fitted up the long cold Altar in +the chapel, and by midnight we had the gloomy sanctuary beautiful with +flowers and candles. It was a curiously solemn service, in the first +hour of the new day, in the midst of blazing candles and the thick +incense, the odor of the opening orange-blooms drifting up in the fresh +morning air, and mingling with the incense smoke and the perfume of +flowers within. Many prayers were said that night for the soul of the +dead girl, and I think many afterwards; for after the benediction I +remained for a little time in my place, and when I rose from my knees +and went towards the chapel door, I saw a figure kneeling still, and, +with a start, recognized the form of the Cavaliere. I smiled with quiet +satisfaction and gratitude, and went away softly, content with the chain +of events that now seemed finished. + +The next day the alcove was again walled up, for the precious dust could +not be gathered together for transportation to consecrated ground; so I +went down to the little cemetery at Parco for a basket of earth, which +we cast in over the ashes of Sister Maddelena. + +By and by, when Rendel and I went away, with great regret, Valguanera +came down to Palermo with us; and the last act that we performed in +Sicily was assisting him to order a tablet of marble, whereon was +carved this simple inscription:-- + + HERE LIES THE BODY OF + ROSALIA DI CASTIGLIONI, + CALLED + SISTER MADDELENA. + HER SOUL + IS WITH HIM WHO GAVE IT. + +To this I added in thought:-- + +"Let him that is without sin among you cast the first stone." + + + + +NOTRE DAME DES EAUX. + + + + +Notre Dame des Eaux. + + +West of St. Pol de Leon, on the sea-cliffs of Finisterre, stands the +ancient church of Notre Dame des Eaux. Five centuries of beating winds +and sweeping rains have moulded its angles, and worn its carvings and +sculpture down to the very semblance of the ragged cliffs themselves, +until even the Breton fisherman, looking lovingly from his boat as he +makes for the harbor of Morlaix, hardly can say where the crags end, and +where the church begins. The teeth of the winds of the sea have +devoured, bit by bit, the fine sculpture of the doorway and the thin +cusps of the window tracery; gray moss creeps caressingly over the worn +walls in ineffectual protection; gentle vines, turned crabbed by the +harsh beating of the fierce winds, clutch the crumbling buttresses, +climb up over the sinking roof, reach in even at the louvres of the +belfry, holding the little sanctuary safe in desperate arms against the +savage warfare of the sea and sky. + +Many a time you may follow the rocky highway from St. Pol even around +the last land of France, and so to Brest, yet never see sign of Notre +Dame des Eaux; for it clings to a cliff somewhat lower than the road, +and between grows a stunted thicket of harsh and ragged trees, their +skeleton white branches, tortured and contorted, thrusting sorrowfully +out of the hard, dark foliage that still grows below, where the rise of +land below the highway gives some protection. You must leave the wood by +the two cottages of yellow stone, about twenty miles beyond St. Pol, and +go down to the right, around the old stone quarry; then, bearing to the +left by the little cliff path, you will, in a moment, see the pointed +roof of the tower of Notre Dame, and, later, come down to the side porch +among the crosses of the arid little graveyard. + +It is worth the walk, for though the church has outwardly little but its +sad picturesqueness to repay the artist, within it is a dream and a +delight. A Norman nave of round, red stone piers and arches, a delicate +choir of the richest flamboyant, a High Altar of the time of Francis I., +form only the mellow background and frame for carven tombs and dark old +pictures, hanging lamps of iron and brass, and black, heavily carved +choir-stalls of the Renaissance. + +So has the little church lain unnoticed for many centuries; for the +horrors and follies of the Revolution have never come near, and the +hardy and faithful people of Finisterre have feared God and loved Our +Lady too well to harm her church. For many years it was the church of +the Comtes de Jarleuc; and these are their tombs that mellow year by +year under the warm light of the painted windows, given long ago by +Comte Robert de Jarleuc, when the heir of Poullaouen came safely to +shore in the harbor of Morlaix, having escaped from the Isle of Wight, +where he had lain captive after the awful defeat of the fleet of Charles +of Valois at Sluys. And now the heir of Poullaouen lies in a carven +tomb, forgetful of the world where he fought so nobly: the dynasty he +fought to establish, only a memory; the family he made glorious, a name; +the Chateau Poullaouen a single crag of riven masonry in the fields of +M. du Bois, mayor of Morlaix. + +It was Julien, Comte de Bergerac, who rediscovered Notre Dame des Eaux, +and by his picture of its dreamy interior in the Salon of '86 brought +once more into notice this forgotten corner of the world. The next year +a party of painters settled themselves near by, roughing it as best they +could, and in the year following, Mme. de Bergerac and her daughter +Heloise came with Julien, and, buying the old farm of Pontivy, on the +highway over Notre Dame, turned it into a summer house that almost made +amends for their lost chateau on the Dordogne, stolen from them as +virulent Royalists by the triumphant Republic in 1794. + +Little by little a summer colony of painters gathered around Pontivy, +and it was not until the spring of 1890 that the peace of the colony was +broken. It was a sorrowful tragedy. Jean d'Yriex, the youngest and +merriest devil of all the jolly crew, became suddenly moody and morose. +At first this was attributed to his undisguised admiration for Mlle. +Heloise, and was looked on as one of the vagaries of boyish passion; but +one day, while riding with M. de Bergerac, he suddenly seized the +bridle of Julien's horse, wrenched it from his hand, and, turning his +own horse's head towards the cliffs, lashed the terrified animals into a +gallop straight towards the brink. He was only thwarted in his mad +object by Julien, who with a quick blow sent him headlong in the dry +grass, and reined in the terrified animals hardly a yard from the +cliffs. When this happened, and no word of explanation was granted, only +a sullen silence that lasted for days, it became clear that poor Jean's +brain was wrong in some way. Heloise devoted herself to him with +infinite patience,--though she felt no special affection for him, only +pity,--and while he was with her he seemed sane and quiet. But at night +some strange mania took possession of him. If he had worked on his Prix +de Rome picture in the daytime, while Heloise sat by him, reading aloud +or singing a little, no matter how good the work, it would have vanished +in the morning, and he would again begin, only to erase his labor during +the night. + +At last his growing insanity reached its climax; and one day in Notre +Dame, when he had painted better than usual, he suddenly stopped, +seized a palette knife, and slashed the great canvas in strips. Heloise +sprang forward to stop him, and in crazy fury he turned on her, striking +at her throat with the palette knife. The thin steel snapped, and the +white throat showed only a scarlet scratch. Heloise, without that +ordinary terror that would crush most women, grasped the thin wrists of +the madman, and, though he could easily have wrenched his hands away, +d'Yriex sank on his knees in a passion of tears. He shut himself in his +room at Pontivy, refusing to see any one, walking for hours up and down, +fighting against growing madness. Soon Dr. Charpentier came from Paris, +summoned by Mme. de Bergerac; and after one short, forced interview, +left at once for Paris, taking M. d'Yriex with him. + +A few days later came a letter for Mme. de Bergerac, in which Dr. +Charpentier confessed that Jean had disappeared, that he had allowed him +too much liberty, owing to his apparent calmness, and that when the +train stopped at Le Mans he had slipped from him and utterly vanished. + +During the summer, word came occasionally that no trace had been found +of the unhappy man, and at last the Pontivy colony realized that the +merry boy was dead. Had he lived he _must_ have been found, for the +exertions of the police were perfect; yet not the slightest trace was +discovered, and his lamentable death was acknowledged, not only by Mme. +de Bergerac and Jean's family,--sorrowing for the death of their +first-born, away in the warm hills of Lozere,--but by Dr. Charpentier as +well. + +So the summer passed, and the autumn came, and at last the cold rains of +November--the skirmish line of the advancing army of winter--drove the +colony back to Paris. + +It was the last day at Pontivy, and Mlle. Heloise had come down to Notre +Dame for a last look at the beautiful shrine, a last prayer for the +repose of the tortured soul of poor Jean d'Yriex. The rains had ceased +for a time, and a warm stillness lay over the cliffs and on the creeping +sea, swaying and lapping around the ragged shore. Heloise knelt very +long before the Altar of Our Lady of the Waters; and when she finally +rose, could not bring herself to leave as yet that place of sorrowful +beauty, all warm and golden with the last light of the declining sun. +She watched the old verger, Pierre Polou, stumping softly around the +darkening building, and spoke to him once, asking the hour; but he was +very deaf, as well as nearly blind, and he did not answer. + +So she sat in the corner of the aisle by the Altar of Our Lady of the +Waters, watching the checkered light fade in the advancing shadows, +dreaming sad day-dreams of the dead summer, until the day-dreams merged +in night-dreams, and she fell asleep. + +Then the last light of the early sunset died in the gleaming quarries of +the west window; Pierre Polou stumbled uncertainly through the dusky +shadow, locked the sagging doors of the mouldering south porch, and took +his way among the leaning crosses up to the highway and his little +cottage, a good mile away,--the nearest house to the lonely Church of +Notre Dame des Eaux. + +With the setting of the sun great clouds rose swiftly from the sea; the +wind freshened, and the gaunt branches of the weather-worn trees in the +churchyard lashed themselves beseechingly before the coming storm. The +tide turned, and the waters at the foot of the rocks swept uneasily up +the narrow beach and caught at the weary cliffs, their sobbing growing +and deepening to a threatening, solemn roar. Whirls of dead leaves rose +in the churchyard, and threw themselves against the blank windows. The +winter and the night came down together. + +Heloise awoke, bewildered and wondering; in a moment she realized the +situation, and without fear or uneasiness. There was nothing to dread in +Notre Dame by night; the ghosts, if there were ghosts, would not trouble +her, and the doors were securely locked. It was foolish of her to fall +asleep, and her mother would be most uneasy at Pontivy if she realized +before dawn that Heloise had not returned. On the other hand, she was in +the habit of wandering off to walk after dinner, often not coming home +until late, so it was quite possible that she might return before Madame +knew of her absence, for Polou came always to unlock the church for the +low mass at six o'clock; so she arose from her cramped position in the +aisle, and walked slowly up to the choir-rail, entered the chancel, and +felt her way to one of the stalls, on the south side, where there were +cushions and an easy back. + +It was really very beautiful in Notre Dame by night; she had never +suspected how strange and solemn the little church could be when the +moon shone fitfully through the south windows, now bright and clear, now +blotted out by sweeping clouds. The nave was barred with the long +shadows of the heavy pillars, and when the moon came out she could see +far down almost to the west end. How still it was! Only a soft low +murmur without of the restless limbs of the trees, and of the creeping +sea. + +It was very soothing, almost like a song; and Heloise felt sleep coming +back to her as the clouds shut out the moon, and all the church grew +black. + +She was drifting off into the last delicious moment of vanishing +consciousness, when she suddenly came fully awake, with a shock that +made every nerve tingle. In the midst of the far faint sounds of the +tempestuous night she had heard a footstep! Yet the church was utterly +empty, she was sure. And again! A footstep dragging and uncertain, +stealthy and cautious, but an unmistakable step, away in the blackest +shadow at the end of the church. + +She sat up, frozen with the fear that comes at night and that is +overwhelming, her hands clutching the coarse carving of the arms of the +stall, staring down into the dark. + +Again the footstep, and again,--slow, measured, one after another at +intervals of perhaps half a minute, growing a little louder each time, a +little nearer. + +Would the darkness never be broken? Would the cloud never pass? Minute +after minute went like weary hours, and still the moon was hid, still +the dead branches rattled clatteringly on the high windows. +Unconsciously she moved, as under a magician's spell, down to the +choir-rail, straining her eyes to pierce the thick night. And the step, +it was very near! Ah, the moon at last! A white ray fell through the +westernmost window, painting a bar of light on the floor of sagging +stone. Then a second bar, then a third, and a fourth, and for a moment +Heloise could have cried out with relief, for nothing broke the lines of +light,--no figure, no shadow. In another moment came a step, and from +the shadow of the last column appeared in the pallid moonlight the +figure of a man. The girl stared breathless, the moonlight falling on +her as she stood rigid against the low parapet. Another step and +another, and she saw before her--was it ghost or living man?--a white +mad face staring from matted hair and beard, a tall thin figure half +clothed in rags, limping as it stepped towards her with wounded feet. +From the dead face stared mad eyes that gleamed like the eyes of a cat, +fixed on hers with insane persistence, holding her, fascinating her as a +cat fascinates a bird. + +One more step,--it was close before her now! those awful, luminous eyes +dilating and contracting in awful palpitations. And the moon was going +out; the shadows swept one by one over the windows; she stared at the +moonlit face for a last fascinated glance--Mother of God! it was---- The +shadow swept over them, and now only remained the blazing eyes and the +dim outline of a form that crouched waveringly before her as a cat +crouches, drawing its vibrating body together for the spring that blots +out the life of the victim. + +In another instant the mad thing would leap; but just as the quiver +swept over the crouching body, Heloise gathered all her strength into +one action of desperate terror. + +"Jean, stop!" + +The thing crouched before her paused, chattering softly to itself; then +it articulated dryly, and with all the trouble of a learning child, the +one word, "_Chantez!_" + +Without a thought, Heloise sang; it was the first thing that she +remembered, an old Provencal song that d'Yriex had always loved. While +she sang, the poor mad creature lay huddled at her feet, separated from +her only by the choir parapet, its dilating, contracting eyes never +moving for an instant. As the song died away, came again that awful +tremor, indicative of the coming death-spring, and again she sang,--this +time the old _Pange lingua_, its sonorous Latin sounding in the deserted +church like the voice of dead centuries. + +And so she sang, on and on, hour after hour,--hymns and _chansons_, +folk-songs and bits from comic operas, songs of the boulevards +alternating with the _Tantum ergo_ and the _O Filii et Filiae_. It +mattered little what she sang. At last it seemed to her that it mattered +little whether she sang or no; for her brain whirled round and round +like a dizzy maelstrom, her icy hands, griping the hard rail, alone +supported her dying body. She could hear no sound of her song; her body +was numb, her mouth parched, her lips cracked and bleeding; she felt +the drops of blood fall from her chin. And still she sang, with the +yellow palpitating eyes holding her as in a vice. If only she could +continue until dawn! It must be dawn so soon! The windows were growing +gray, the rain lashed outside, she could distinguish the features of the +horror before her; but the night of death was growing with the coming +day, blackness swept down upon her; she could sing no more, her tortured +lips made one last effort to form the words, "Mother of God, save me!" +and night and death came down like a crushing wave. + +But her prayer was heard; the dawn had come, and Polou unlocked the +porch-door for Father Augustin just in time to hear the last agonized +cry. The maniac turned in the very act of leaping on his victim, and +sprang for the two men, who stopped in dumb amazement. Poor old Pierre +Polou went down at a blow; but Father Augustin was young and fearless, +and he grappled the mad animal with all his strength and will. It would +have gone ill even with him,--for no one can stand against the bestial +fury of a man in whom reason is dead,--had not some sudden impulse +seized the maniac, who pitched the priest aside with a single movement, +and, leaping through the door, vanished forever. + +Did he hurl himself from the cliffs in the cold wet morning, or was he +doomed to wander, a wild beast, until, captured, he beat himself in vain +against the walls of some asylum, an unknown pauper lunatic? None ever +knew. + +The colony at Pontivy was blotted out by the dreary tragedy, and Notre +Dame des Eaux sank once more into silence and solitude. Once a year +Father Augustin said mass for the repose of the soul of Jean d'Yriex; +but no other memory remained of the horror that blighted the lives of an +innocent girl and of a gray-haired mother mourning for her dead boy in +far Lozere. + + + + +THE DEAD VALLEY. + + + + +The Dead Valley. + + +I have a friend, Olof Ehrensvaerd, a Swede by birth, who yet, by reason +of a strange and melancholy mischance of his early boyhood, has thrown +his lot with that of the New World. It is a curious story of a +headstrong boy and a proud and relentless family: the details do not +matter here, but they are sufficient to weave a web of romance around +the tall yellow-bearded man with the sad eyes and the voice that gives +itself perfectly to plaintive little Swedish songs remembered out of +childhood. In the winter evenings we play chess together, he and I, and +after some close, fierce battle has been fought to a finish--usually +with my own defeat--we fill our pipes again, and Ehrensvaerd tells me +stories of the far, half-remembered days in the fatherland, before he +went to sea: stories that grow very strange and incredible as the night +deepens and the fire falls together, but stories that, nevertheless, I +fully believe. + +One of them made a strong impression on me, so I set it down here, only +regretting that I cannot reproduce the curiously perfect English and the +delicate accent which to me increased the fascination of the tale. Yet, +as best I can remember it, here it is. + +"I never told you how Nils and I went over the hills to Hallsberg, and +how we found the Dead Valley, did I? Well, this is the way it happened. +I must have been about twelve years old, and Nils Sjoeberg, whose +father's estate joined ours, was a few months younger. We were +inseparable just at that time, and whatever we did, we did together. + +"Once a week it was market day in Engelholm, and Nils and I went always +there to see the strange sights that the market gathered from all the +surrounding country. One day we quite lost our hearts, for an old man +from across the Elfborg had brought a little dog to sell, that seemed to +us the most beautiful dog in all the world. He was a round, woolly +puppy, so funny that Nils and I sat down on the ground and laughed at +him, until he came and played with us in so jolly a way that we felt +that there was only one really desirable thing in life, and that was the +little dog of the old man from across the hills. But alas! we had not +half money enough wherewith to buy him, so we were forced to beg the old +man not to sell him before the next market day, promising that we would +bring the money for him then. He gave us his word, and we ran home very +fast and implored our mothers to give us money for the little dog. + +"We got the money, but we could not wait for the next market day. +Suppose the puppy should be sold! The thought frightened us so that we +begged and implored that we might be allowed to go over the hills to +Hallsberg where the old man lived, and get the little dog ourselves, and +at last they told us we might go. By starting early in the morning we +should reach Hallsberg by three o'clock, and it was arranged that we +should stay there that night with Nils's aunt, and, leaving by noon the +next day, be home again by sunset. + +"Soon after sunrise we were on our way, after having received minute +instructions as to just what we should do in all possible and +impossible circumstances, and finally a repeated injunction that we +should start for home at the same hour the next day, so that we might +get safely back before nightfall. + +"For us, it was magnificent sport, and we started off with our rifles, +full of the sense of our very great importance: yet the journey was +simple enough, along a good road, across the big hills we knew so well, +for Nils and I had shot over half the territory this side of the +dividing ridge of the Elfborg. Back of Engelholm lay a long valley, from +which rose the low mountains, and we had to cross this, and then follow +the road along the side of the hills for three or four miles, before a +narrow path branched off to the left, leading up through the pass. + +"Nothing occurred of interest on the way over, and we reached Hallsberg +in due season, found to our inexpressible joy that the little dog was +not sold, secured him, and so went to the house of Nils's aunt to spend +the night. + +"Why we did not leave early on the following day, I can't quite +remember; at all events, I know we stopped at a shooting range just +outside of the town, where most attractive pasteboard pigs were sliding +slowly through painted foliage, serving so as beautiful marks. The +result was that we did not get fairly started for home until afternoon, +and as we found ourselves at last pushing up the side of the mountain +with the sun dangerously near their summits, I think we were a little +scared at the prospect of the examination and possible punishment that +awaited us when we got home at midnight. + +"Therefore we hurried as fast as possible up the mountain side, while +the blue dusk closed in about us, and the light died in the purple sky. +At first we had talked hilariously, and the little dog had leaped ahead +of us with the utmost joy. Latterly, however, a curious oppression came +on us; we did not speak or even whistle, while the dog fell behind, +following us with hesitation in every muscle. + +"We had passed through the foothills and the low spurs of the mountains, +and were almost at the top of the main range, when life seemed to go out +of everything, leaving the world dead, so suddenly silent the forest +became, so stagnant the air. Instinctively we halted to listen. + +"Perfect silence,--the crushing silence of deep forests at night; and +more, for always, even in the most impenetrable fastnesses of the wooded +mountains, is the multitudinous murmur of little lives, awakened by the +darkness, exaggerated and intensified by the stillness of the air and +the great dark: but here and now the silence seemed unbroken even by the +turn of a leaf, the movement of a twig, the note of night bird or +insect. I could hear the blood beat through my veins; and the crushing +of the grass under our feet as we advanced with hesitating steps sounded +like the falling of trees. + +"And the air was stagnant,--dead. The atmosphere seemed to lie upon the +body like the weight of sea on a diver who has ventured too far into its +awful depths. What we usually call silence seems so only in relation to +the din of ordinary experience. This was silence in the absolute, and it +crushed the mind while it intensified the senses, bringing down the +awful weight of inextinguishable fear. + +"I know that Nils and I stared towards each other in abject terror, +listening to our quick, heavy breathing, that sounded to our acute +senses like the fitful rush of waters. And the poor little dog we were +leading justified our terror. The black oppression seemed to crush him +even as it did us. He lay close on the ground, moaning feebly, and +dragging himself painfully and slowly closer to Nils's feet. I think +this exhibition of utter animal fear was the last touch, and must +inevitably have blasted our reason--mine anyway; but just then, as we +stood quaking on the bounds of madness, came a sound, so awful, so +ghastly, so horrible, that it seemed to rouse us from the dead spell +that was on us. + +"In the depth of the silence came a cry, beginning as a low, sorrowful +moan, rising to a tremulous shriek, culminating in a yell that seemed to +tear the night in sunder and rend the world as by a cataclysm. So +fearful was it that I could not believe it had actual existence: it +passed previous experience, the powers of belief, and for a moment I +thought it the result of my own animal terror, an hallucination born of +tottering reason. + +"A glance at Nils dispelled this thought in a flash. In the pale light +of the high stars he was the embodiment of all possible human fear, +quaking with an ague, his jaw fallen, his tongue out, his eyes +protruding like those of a hanged man. Without a word we fled, the +panic of fear giving us strength, and together, the little dog caught +close in Nils's arms, we sped down the side of the cursed +mountains,--anywhere, goal was of no account: we had but one impulse--to +get away from that place. + +"So under the black trees and the far white stars that flashed through +the still leaves overhead, we leaped down the mountain side, regardless +of path or landmark, straight through the tangled underbrush, across +mountain streams, through fens and copses, anywhere, so only that our +course was downward. + +"How long we ran thus, I have no idea, but by and by the forest fell +behind, and we found ourselves among the foothills, and fell exhausted +on the dry short grass, panting like tired dogs. + +"It was lighter here in the open, and presently we looked around to see +where we were, and how we were to strike out in order to find the path +that would lead us home. We looked in vain for a familiar sign. Behind +us rose the great wall of black forest on the flank of the mountain: +before us lay the undulating mounds of low foothills, unbroken by trees +or rocks, and beyond, only the fall of black sky bright with +multitudinous stars that turned its velvet depth to a luminous gray. + +"As I remember, we did not speak to each other once: the terror was too +heavy on us for that, but by and by we rose simultaneously and started +out across the hills. + +"Still the same silence, the same dead, motionless air--air that was at +once sultry and chilling: a heavy heat struck through with an icy chill +that felt almost like the burning of frozen steel. Still carrying the +helpless dog, Nils pressed on through the hills, and I followed close +behind. At last, in front of us, rose a slope of moor touching the white +stars. We climbed it wearily, reached the top, and found ourselves +gazing down into a great, smooth valley, filled half way to the brim +with--what? + +"As far as the eye could see stretched a level plain of ashy white, +faintly phosphorescent, a sea of velvet fog that lay like motionless +water, or rather like a floor of alabaster, so dense did it appear, so +seemingly capable of sustaining weight. If it were possible, I think +that sea of dead white mist struck even greater terror into my soul +than the heavy silence or the deadly cry--so ominous was it, so utterly +unreal, so phantasmal, so impossible, as it lay there like a dead ocean +under the steady stars. Yet through that mist _we must go_! there seemed +no other way home, and, shattered with abject fear, mad with the one +desire to get back, we started down the slope to where the sea of milky +mist ceased, sharp and distinct around the stems of the rough grass. + +"I put one foot into the ghostly fog. A chill as of death struck through +me, stopping my heart, and I threw myself backward on the slope. At that +instant came again the shriek, close, close, right in our ears, in +ourselves, and far out across that damnable sea I saw the cold fog lift +like a water-spout and toss itself high in writhing convolutions towards +the sky. The stars began to grow dim as thick vapor swept across them, +and in the growing dark I saw a great, watery moon lift itself slowly +above the palpitating sea, vast and vague in the gathering mist. + +"This was enough: we turned and fled along the margin of the white sea +that throbbed now with fitful motion below us, rising, rising, slowly +and steadily, driving us higher and higher up the side of the foothills. + +"It was a race for life; that we knew. How we kept it up I cannot +understand, but we did, and at last we saw the white sea fall behind us +as we staggered up the end of the valley, and then down into a region +that we knew, and so into the old path. The last thing I remember was +hearing a strange voice, that of Nils, but horribly changed, stammer +brokenly, 'The dog is dead!' and then the whole world turned around +twice, slowly and resistlessly, and consciousness went out with a crash. + +"It was some three weeks later, as I remember, that I awoke in my own +room, and found my mother sitting beside the bed. I could not think very +well at first, but as I slowly grew strong again, vague flashes of +recollection began to come to me, and little by little the whole +sequence of events of that awful night in the Dead Valley came back. All +that I could gain from what was told me was that three weeks before I +had been found in my own bed, raging sick, and that my illness grew fast +into brain fever. I tried to speak of the dread things that had happened +to me, but I saw at once that no one looked on them save as the +hauntings of a dying frenzy, and so I closed my mouth and kept my own +counsel. + +"I must see Nils, however, and so I asked for him. My mother told me +that he also had been ill with a strange fever, but that he was now +quite well again. Presently they brought him in, and when we were alone +I began to speak to him of the night on the mountain. I shall never +forget the shock that struck me down on my pillow when the boy denied +everything: denied having gone with me, ever having heard the cry, +having seen the valley, or feeling the deadly chill of the ghostly fog. +Nothing would shake his determined ignorance, and in spite of myself I +was forced to admit that his denials came from no policy of concealment, +but from blank oblivion. + +"My weakened brain was in a turmoil. Was it all but the floating +phantasm of delirium? Or had the horror of the real thing blotted Nils's +mind into blankness so far as the events of the night in the Dead Valley +were concerned? The latter explanation seemed the only one, else how +explain the sudden illness which in a night had struck us both down? I +said nothing more, either to Nils or to my own people, but waited, with +a growing determination that, once well again, I would find that valley +if it really existed. + +"It was some weeks before I was really well enough to go, but finally, +late in September, I chose a bright, warm, still day, the last smile of +the dying summer, and started early in the morning along the path that +led to Hallsberg. I was sure I knew where the trail struck off to the +right, down which we had come from the valley of dead water, for a great +tree grew by the Hallsberg path at the point where, with a sense of +salvation, we had found the home road. Presently I saw it to the right, +a little distance ahead. + +"I think the bright sunlight and the clear air had worked as a tonic to +me, for by the time I came to the foot of the great pine, I had quite +lost faith in the verity of the vision that haunted me, believing at +last that it was indeed but the nightmare of madness. Nevertheless, I +turned sharply to the right, at the base of the tree, into a narrow path +that led through a dense thicket. As I did so I tripped over something. +A swarm of flies sung into the air around me, and looking down I saw +the matted fleece, with the poor little bones thrusting through, of the +dog we had bought in Hallsberg. + +"Then my courage went out with a puff, and I knew that it all was true, +and that now I was frightened. Pride and the desire for adventure urged +me on, however, and I pressed into the close thicket that barred my way. +The path was hardly visible: merely the worn road of some small beasts, +for, though it showed in the crisp grass, the bushes above grew thick +and hardly penetrable. The land rose slowly, and rising grew clearer, +until at last I came out on a great slope of hill, unbroken by trees or +shrubs, very like my memory of that rise of land we had topped in order +that we might find the dead valley and the icy fog. I looked at the sun; +it was bright and clear, and all around insects were humming in the +autumn air, and birds were darting to and fro. Surely there was no +danger, not until nightfall at least; so I began to whistle, and with a +rush mounted the last crest of brown hill. + +"There lay the Dead Valley! A great oval basin, almost as smooth and +regular as though made by man. On all sides the grass crept over the +brink of the encircling hills, dusty green on the crests, then fading +into ashy brown, and so to a deadly white, this last color forming a +thin ring, running in a long line around the slope. And then? Nothing. +Bare, brown, hard earth, glittering with grains of alkali, but otherwise +dead and barren. Not a tuft of grass, not a stick of brushwood, not even +a stone, but only the vast expanse of beaten clay. + +"In the midst of the basin, perhaps a mile and a half away, the level +expanse was broken by a great dead tree, rising leafless and gaunt into +the air. Without a moment's hesitation I started down into the valley +and made for this goal. Every particle of fear seemed to have left me, +and even the valley itself did not look so very terrifying. At all +events, I was driven by an overwhelming curiosity, and there seemed to +be but one thing in the world to do,--to get to that Tree! As I trudged +along over the hard earth, I noticed that the multitudinous voices of +birds and insects had died away. No bee or butterfly hovered through the +air, no insects leaped or crept over the dull earth. The very air itself +was stagnant. + +"As I drew near the skeleton tree, I noticed the glint of sunlight on a +kind of white mound around its roots, and I wondered curiously. It was +not until I had come close that I saw its nature. + +"All around the roots and barkless trunk was heaped a wilderness of +little bones. Tiny skulls of rodents and of birds, thousands of them, +rising about the dead tree and streaming off for several yards in all +directions, until the dreadful pile ended in isolated skulls and +scattered skeletons. Here and there a larger bone appeared,--the thigh +of a sheep, the hoofs of a horse, and to one side, grinning slowly, a +human skull. + +"I stood quite still, staring with all my eyes, when suddenly the dense +silence was broken by a faint, forlorn cry high over my head. I looked +up and saw a great falcon turning and sailing downward just over the +tree. In a moment more she fell motionless on the bleaching bones. + +"Horror struck me, and I rushed for home, my brain whirling, a strange +numbness growing in me. I ran steadily, on and on. At last I glanced up. +Where was the rise of hill? I looked around wildly. Close before me was +the dead tree with its pile of bones. I had circled it round and round, +and the valley wall was still a mile and a half away. + +"I stood dazed and frozen. The sun was sinking, red and dull, towards +the line of hills. In the east the dark was growing fast. Was there +still time? _Time!_ It was not _that_ I wanted, it was _will_! My feet +seemed clogged as in a nightmare. I could hardly drag them over the +barren earth. And then I felt the slow chill creeping through me. I +looked down. Out of the earth a thin mist was rising, collecting in +little pools that grew ever larger until they joined here and there, +their currents swirling slowly like thin blue smoke. The western hills +halved the copper sun. When it was dark I should hear that shriek again, +and then I should die. I knew that, and with every remaining atom of +will I staggered towards the red west through the writhing mist that +crept clammily around my ankles, retarding my steps. + +"And as I fought my way off from the Tree, the horror grew, until at +last I thought I was going to die. The silence pursued me like dumb +ghosts, the still air held my breath, the hellish fog caught at my feet +like cold hands. + +"But I won! though not a moment too soon. As I crawled on my hands and +knees up the brown slope, I heard, far away and high in the air, the cry +that already had almost bereft me of reason. It was faint and vague, but +unmistakable in its horrible intensity. I glanced behind. The fog was +dense and pallid, heaving undulously up the brown slope. The sky was +gold under the setting sun, but below was the ashy gray of death. I +stood for a moment on the brink of this sea of hell, and then leaped +down the slope. The sunset opened before me, the night closed behind, +and as I crawled home weak and tired, darkness shut down on the Dead +Valley." + + + + +POSTSCRIPT. + + +There seem to be certain well-defined roots existing in all countries, +from which spring the current legends of the supernatural; and therefore +for the germs of the stories in this book the Author claims no +originality. These legends differ one from the other only in local color +and in individual treatment. If the Author has succeeded in clothing one +or two of these norms in some slightly new vesture, he is more than +content. + +BOSTON, _July 3, 1895_. + + +THE END. + + + + +THE PRINTING WAS DONE AT THE LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, FOR STONE & +KIMBALL, PUBLISHERS. + + + + + Concerning the Books + _of_ + _Stone & Kimball_ + + _1895-1896_ + + + [Illustration] + + + _CHICAGO & LONDON_ + + + + + _Cable Address:_ + + "ESSANKAY, CHICAGO" + "EDITORSHIP, LONDON" + + + + +THE PUBLICATIONS OF STONE & KIMBALL. + + +ADAMS, FRANCIS. + + Essays in Modernity. Crown 8vo. $1.25, net. _Shortly._ + +ALLEN, GRANT. + + THE LOWER SLOPES. Reminiscences of Excursions round the Base of + Helicon, undertaken for the most part in early manhood. With a + titlepage by J. Illingworth Kay. Printed by T. & A. Constable, + Edinburgh. Crown 8vo. 80 pp. $1.50, net. + +ARCHER, WILLIAM. + + See Green Tree Library, Vol. III. + +BELL, LILIAN. + + A LITTLE SISTER TO THE WILDERNESS. By the author of "The Love + Affairs of an Old Maid." With a cover designed by Bruce Rogers. + 16mo. 267 pp. $1.25. _Fourth thousand._ + +BROWNE, E. S. + + See English Classics. Hajji Baba. + +BURGESS, GILBERT. + + THE LOVE LETTERS OF MR. H. AND MISS R. 1775-1779. Edited, with an + introduction by Gilbert Burgess. Small crown 8vo. 240 pp. $1.50. + +CARMAN, BLISS. + + LOW TIDE ON GRAND PRE. Revised and enlarged. With a titlepage + designed by Martin Mower. 18mo. Gilt top, deckled edges. 132 pp. + $1.00, net. + + Also fifty copies on old English handmade paper, each signed by the + author. Square 8vo. $3.50, net. _Very few remain._ + +CARNATION SERIES. + + Bound in cloth, with carnation design on the covers. 18mo. Rough + edges. $1.00 a volume. + + Vol. I. THE GYPSY CHRIST AND OTHER TALES. By William Sharp. + + Vol. II. THE SISTER OF A SAINT AND OTHER STORIES. By Grace Ellery + Channing. + + Vol. III. BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE. A book of ghost stories. By Ralph + Adams Cram. + + Vol. IV. THE SIN EATER AND OTHER STORIES. By Fiona Macleod. + + Vol. V. THE GODS GIVE MY DONKEY WINGS. By Angus Evan Abbott. + _Other volumes to follow._ + +CHANNING, GRACE ELLERY. + + THE SISTER OF A SAINT AND OTHER STORIES. See Carnation Series. + +CHATFIELD-TAYLOR, H. C. + + TWO WOMEN AND A FOOL. With eight pictures by C. D. Gibson. 232 pp. + $1.50. _Seventh thousand._ + +CONGREVE, WILLIAM. + + THE COMEDIES OF WILLIAM CONGREVE. See English Classics. + +CRAM, RALPH ADAMS. + + BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE. A book of ghost stories. See Carnation + Series. + +DAVIDSON, JOHN. + + PLAYS. An Unhistorical Pastoral; a Romantic Farce; Bruce, a + Chronicle Play; Smith, a Tragic Farce; Scaramouch in Naxos, a + Pantomime. With a frontispiece and cover design by Aubrey Beardsley. + Printed at the Ballantyne Press, London. Small 4to. 294 pp. $2.00, + net. + +DEKOVEN, MRS. REGINALD. + + A SAWDUST DOLL. With cover and titlepage designed by Frank + Hazenplug. Printed at the Lakeside Press. 16mo. 237 pp. $1.25. + _Fifth thousand._ + +FIELD, EUGENE. + + THE HOLY CROSS AND OTHER TALES. With cover, titlepage, and + initial-letter pieces designed by Louis J. Rhead. Printed at the + University Press, on English laid paper. 18mo. Gilt top, deckled + edges. 191 pp. $1.25. _Third thousand._ + + Also 110 copies, 100 for sale, on Holland paper, with special + dedications of the various tales. 8vo. $5.00, net. + _Very few remain._ + +GALE, NORMAN. + + A COUNTRY MUSE. First Series, revised and enlarged. Printed by T. & + A. Constable, Edinburgh. Crown, 8vo. 145 pp. $1.25, net. + + A JUNE ROMANCE. With a titlepage and tailpiece designed by Basil + Johnson. Printed on antique paper at the Rugby Press. 107 pp. Price, + $1.00. _Third thousand._ + +ENGLISH CLASSICS. + + Edited by William Ernest Henley. The ordinary "cheap edition" + appears to have served its purpose; the public has found out the + artist-printers, and is now ready for something better fashioned. + This, then, is the moment for the issue of such a series as, while + well within the reach of the average buyer, shall be at once an + ornament to the shelf of him that owns, and a delight to the eye of + him that reads. + + The series will confine itself to no single period or department of + literature. Poetry, fiction, drama, biography, autobiography, + letters, essays,--in all these fields is the material of many goodly + volumes. + + The books are printed by Messrs. Constable, of Edinburgh, on laid + paper, with deckle edges, and bound in crushed buckram, crown 8vo, + at $1.25 a volume, net. + + THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. + + By Laurence Sterne. With an introduction by Charles Whibley, and a + portrait. 2 vols. + + THE COMEDIES OF WILLIAM CONGREVE. + + With an introduction by G. S. Street, and a portrait. 2 vols. + + THE ADVENTURES OF HAJJI BABA OF ISPAHAN. + + By James Morier. With an introduction by E. S. Browne, M. A., and a + portrait. 2 vols. + + ENGLISH SEAMEN. + + By Robert Southey. 1 vol. + + LIVES OF DONNE, WOTTON, HOOKER, HERBERT, AND SANDERSON. + + By Izaak Walton. With an introduction by Vernon Blackburn, and a + portrait. 1 vol. + _Others to follow._ + +GARLAND, HAMLIN. + + PRAIRIE SONGS. Verses. With cover, head and initial letter pieces + designed by H. T. Carpenter. Printed at the University Press on + specially made paper. 16mo. Buckram, gilt top, edges uncut. 164 pp. + $1.25, net. + + Also 110 numbered copies, 100 for sale, on large paper, each signed + by the author. 8vo. $5.00, net. _Very few remain._ + + MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS. Six stories of the Mississippi Valley. A + revised edition, with an introduction by W. D. Howells, and + frontispiece, headpieces, and cover design by H. T. Carpenter. + Printed at the University Press on specially made paper. 16mo. + Buckram, gilt top and uncut edges. 251 pp. $1.25. + _Twelfth thousand._ + + Also 110 copies, 100 for sale, on large paper. 8vo. $5.00, net. + _Very few remain._ + + CRUMBLING IDOLS. Twelve essays on Art, dealing chiefly with + Literature, Painting, and the Drama. Printed at the University + Press. 16mo. 192 pp. $1.25. + +GOSSE, EDMUND. + + IN RUSSET AND SILVER. Printed at the University Press on English + laid paper. Cover designed by Will H. Bradley. 16mo. 158 pp. $1.25, + net. _Second edition._ + + Also 75 copies on large paper, numbered from 1 to 10 (Japanese + vellum), at $6.00, and 11 to 75 (English handmade), at $3.50, net. + +GRAHAME, KENNETH. + + THE GOLDEN AGE. 16mo. Crushed buckram. 241 pp. $1.25. + _Third thousand._ + +GREEN TREE LIBRARY. + + A series of books representing what may broadly be called the new + movement in literature. The intention is to publish uniformly the + best of the decadent writings of various countries, done into + English and consistently brought together for the first time. The + volumes are all copyright, and are issued in a uniform binding--The + Green Tree--designed by Henry McCarter. + + Vol. I. VISTAS. By William Sharp. 16mo. 183 pp. $1.25, net. + + Vol. II. THE PLAYS OF MAURICE MAETERLINCK. Princess Maleine; The + Blind; The Intruder; The Seven Princesses. Translated by Richard + Hovey. With an introductory essay on Symbolism. 16mo. 369 pp. $1.25, + net. _Second edition._ + + Vol. III. LITTLE EYOLF. A play by Henrik Ibsen. Translated by + William Archer. 16mo. 164 pp. $1.50 net. _Second edition._ + + Vol. IV. POEMS OF PAUL VERLAINE. Translated by Gertrude Hall. With + pictures by Henry McCarter. 16mo. 110 pp. $1.50, net. + + Also 100 numbered copies on Imperial Japanese vellum, with artist's + proofs of all the pictures. Small 4to. Nos. 1 to 15, containing an + extra set of proofs on India paper, mounted, $15.00, net. Nos. 16 to + 100, $10.00, net. + + Vol. V. THE MASSACRE OF THE INNOCENTS AND OTHER TALES. By + Maeterlinck, Eekhoudt, Van Lerbergh, and the leaders of the Belgian + Renaissance. Translated by Edith Wingate Rinder. 16mo. $1.25, net. + + Vol. VI. PHARAIS. A Celtic Romance. By Fiona Macleod. 16mo. $1.25, + net. + + Vol. VII. THE PLAYS OF MAURICE MAETERLINCK. Second series. Pelleas + and Melisande, and Three Plays for Marionettes. + + Translated by Richard Hovey. With an introduction by Maeterlinck. + 16mo. _In preparation._ + _Other volumes to follow._ + +HAKE, THOMAS GORDON. + + SELECTIONS FROM THE POEMS OF THOMAS GORDON HAKE. Edited, with an + introduction, by Mrs. Meynell (Alice C. Thompson). With a portrait + after a drawing by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Printed by T. & A. + Constable, Edinburgh. Crown 8vo. 155 pp. $1.50, net. + +HALE, EDWARD EVERETT. + + See Taylor. + +HALL, GERTRUDE. + + See Green Tree Library, Vol. IV. + +HALL, TOM. + + WHEN HEARTS ARE TRUMPS. Verses. With decorations by Will H. Bradley. + 16mo. $1.25. _Third thousand._ + +HEAD, FRANKLIN H. + + See Swing. + +HOVEY, RICHARD. + + THE MARRIAGE OF GUENEVERE. With a cover designed by T. B. Meteyard. + 18mo. $1.50. + + See Green Tree Library, Vols. II. and VII. + +HOWELLS, W. D. + + See Garland. + +IBSEN, HENRIK. + + LITTLE EYOLF. See Green Tree Library, Vol. III. + +MACKAY, ERIC. + + A SONG OF THE SEA, MY LADY OF DREAMS, AND OTHER POEMS. By the author + of "The Love Letters of a Violinist." 16mo. $1.25. + +MAETERLINCK, MAURICE. + + PLAYS OF MAURICE MAETERLINCK. + + See Green Tree Library, Vols. II. and VII. + +MCCULLOCH, HUGH, JR. + + THE QUEST OF HERACLES AND OTHER POEMS. Titlepage designed by Pierre + la Rose. Printed at the De Vinne Press on Van Gelder handmade paper. + 16mo. 95 pp. Cloth, $1.25, net. + +MEEKINS, LYNN R. + + THE ROBB'S ISLAND WRECK AND OTHER STORIES. Printed at the University + Press, 16mo. 192 pp. $1.00. + +MEYNELL, MRS. + + See Hake. + +MILLER, JOAQUIN. + + THE BUILDING OF THE CITY BEAUTIFUL. A poetic romance. Printed at the + University Press on American laid paper. 18mo. Gilt top, deckled + edges. 196 pp. $1.50. _Third edition._ + + Also 50 copies on large paper. $3.50, net. _Very few remain._ + +MOULTON, LOUISE CHANDLER. + + ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY. His Life and His Work, with selections from + his poems. With a portrait from a drawing by August F. Jaccaci. + Printed at the De Vinne Press on English laid paper. 450 copies. + 18mo. 120 pp. Price, $1.25, net. + + Also, 60 numbered copies on Holland handmade paper (only 50 being + for sale), at $3.50. + +MORIER, JAMES. + + THE ADVENTURES OF HAJJI BABA OF ISPAHAN. See English Classics. + +OSBOURNE, LLOYD. + + See Stevenson. + +O'SHAUGHNESSY, ARTHUR. + + See Moulton. + +PARKER, GILBERT. + + A LOVER'S DIARY. Songs in Sequence. With a frontispiece by Will H. + Low. Printed at the University Press on antique paper. 18mo. 147 pp. + $1.25, net. _Second edition._ + + Also 50 copies on Dickinson handmade paper. $3.50 (all sold). + + PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE. Tales of the Far North. Printed at the + University Press on laid paper. 18mo. 318 pp. $1.25. + _Third edition._ + + WHEN VALMOND CAME TO PONTIAC. The Story of a Lost Napoleon. With a + cover designed by Bruce Rogers. 16mo. 222 pp. $1.50. + _Fifth thousand._ + +POE, EDGAR ALLAN. + + THE COMPLETE WORKS OF EDGAR ALLAN POE. Newly collected, edited, and + for the first time revised after the author's final manuscript + corrections, by Edmund Clarence Stedman and George Edward Woodberry, + with many portraits, fac-similes, and pictures by Albert Edward + Sterner. + + This is the only complete edition of Poe's works. The entire + writings have been revised; innumerable errors have been corrected; + quotations have been verified, and the work now stands--for the + first time--as Poe wished it to stand. The editors contribute a + memoir, critical introduction, and notes; the variorum texts are + given and new matter has been added. The portraits include several + which have never appeared in book form before, and the printing has + been carefully done at the University Press in Cambridge on + specially made, deckled edge paper. + + In fine, the edition aims to be definitive, and is intended alike + for the librarian, the student, and the book-lover. + + In ten volumes, price $15.00, net, a set; or separately, $1.50, net, + per volume. + + The large-paper edition, limited to 250 numbered sets for America, + contains a series of illustrations to the tales by Aubrey Beardsley, + and a signed etching by Mr. Sterner,--not included in the + small-paper edition,--proofs of all the pictures printed on India + paper, and, in truth, is a luxurious edition. On handsome paper, + octavo. Price, $50.00, net. Sold only in sets; numbers will be + assigned as the orders are received. + + New York Tribune: "At no time in the future is it probable that + the labors of his present editors and publishers will be + superseded." + + New York Times: "Doubtless no other men in this country were + better fitted for this arduous and delicate task than those who + have, at length, undertaken it." + +SANTAYANA, GEORGE. + + SONNETS AND OTHER POEMS. With titlepage designed by the author. + Printed at the University Press on laid paper. 16mo. Buckram. 90 pp. + Price, $1.25, net. _Out of print._ + +SHARP, WILLIAM. + + VISTAS. See Green Tree Library, Vol. I. + + THE GYPSY CHRIST AND OTHER TALES. See Carnation Series, Vol. I. + +SOUTHALL, J. E. + + THE STORY OF BLUEBEARD. Newly translated and elaborately + illustrated. $1.25. + +SOUTHEY, ROBERT. + + ENGLISH SEAMEN. See English Classics. + +STEDMAN, E. C. + + See Poe. + +STERNE, LAURENCE. + + THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. See English Classics. + +STEVENSON, ROBERT LOUIS. + + THE LATER WORKS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Published in a uniform + edition. 16mo. Bound in green crushed buckram. + + THE AMATEUR EMIGRANT. 180 pp. $1.25. _Fourth thousand._ + + VAILIMA LETTERS. From Robert Louis Stevenson to Sidney Colvin. With + an etched portrait by William Strang and two portraits of Stevenson + in Samoa. In two volumes. 16mo. $2.25. + +---- AND LLOYD OSBOURNE. + + THE EBB-TIDE. A Trio and Quartette. 204 pp. $1.25. _Sixth thousand._ + +---- AND WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY. + + MACAIRE. A Melodramatic Farce. In three acts. $1.00. + +STREET, G. S. + + See Congreve. + +SWING, DAVID. + + OLD PICTURES OF LIFE. With an introduction by Franklin H. Head. In + two volumes. 16mo. Vol. I., 191 pp.; vol. II., 220 pp. $2.00. + +TAYLOR, WINNIE LOUISE. + + HIS BROKEN SWORD. A novel. With an introduction by Edward Everett + Hale. Printed at the University Press on American laid paper. 12mo. + Gilt top, deckled edges. 354 pp. $1.25. _Third edition._ + +THOMPSON, MAURICE. + + LINCOLN'S GRAVE. A Poem. With a titlepage by George H. Hallowell. + Printed at the University Press. 16mo. 36 pp. Price, $1.00, net. + +VERLAINE, PAUL. + + POEMS OF PAUL VERLAINE. See Green Tree Library, Vol. IV. + +WHIBLEY, CHARLES. + + See Sterne. + +WOODBERRY, GEORGE EDWARD. + + See Poe. + +YEATS, W. B. + + THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE. A play. With a frontispiece by Aubrey + Beardsley. Printed at the University Press. 16mo. 43 pp. Price, + $1.00, net. + + + + + The Chap-Book. + + _A Miniature Magazine and Review._ + + _Semi-Monthly._ + + STONE & KIMBALL + THE CAXTON BUILDING, CHICAGO. + + PRICE, 5 CENTS. $1.00 A YEAR. + + CONTRIBUTORS. + Thomas Bailey Aldrich Stephane Mallarme + Maurice Maeterlinck Eugene Field + Richard Henry Stoddard Hamlin Garland + Gilbert Parker I. Zangwill + Kenneth Grahame Louise Imogen Guiney + Bliss Carman Gertrude Hall + John Davidson Maria Louise Pool + Charles G. D. Roberts William Sharp + Paul Verlaine Archibald Lampman + Alice Brown H. B. Marriott Watson + Julian Hawthorne Richard Burton + Clyde Fitch H. H. Boyesen + Edmund Gosse Lewis Gates + Maurice Thompson H. W. Mabie + C. F. Bragdon F. Vallotton + Will H. Bradley J. F. Raffaelli + Louise Chandler Moulton C. D. Gibson + Robert Louis Stevenson William Ernest Henley + Theodore Wratislaw + + There is no question that the Chap-Book is + the best printed periodical in the world. + --_Boston Traveller._ + + The Chap-Book continues to be delightfully + clever and irresponsible. + --_Charleston News and Courier._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Black Spirits and White, by Ralph Adams Cram + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACK SPIRITS AND WHITE *** + +***** This file should be named 26687.txt or 26687.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/6/8/26687/ + +Produced by David Clarke, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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