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diff --git a/old/62760-0.txt b/old/62760-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index de0df66..0000000 --- a/old/62760-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13634 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mysteries of Florence, by George Lippard - -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/license - - -Title: The Mysteries of Florence - -Author: George Lippard - -Release Date: July 26, 2020 [EBook #62760] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE - - MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE. - - BY - - GEORGE LIPPARD. - -AUTHOR OF “THE EMPIRE CITY, OR NEW YORK BY NIGHT AND DAY,” “THE MEMOIRS OF - A PREACHER,” “WASHINGTON AND HIS MEN,” “THE LEGENDS OF THE AMERICAN -REVOLUTION, OR, WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS,” “THE QUAKER CITY; OR, THE - MONKS OF MONK HALL,” “PAUL ARDENHEIM, THE MONK OF WISSAHIKON,” - “LEGENDS OF MEXICO,” “THE NAZARENE,” “BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE,” - “THE ENTRANCED,” “THE BANK DIRECTOR’S SON,” ETC., ETC. - - - COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. - - - Philadelphia: - T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, - 306 CHESTNUT STREET. - - - - - Entered, according to act of Congress, in the year 1864, by - - T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS. - -In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and - for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -BOOK THE FIRST. - -THE RED CHAMBER. - -CHAPTER FIRST. - - PAGE - -The Signet Ring of Albarone 13 - -CHAPTER SECOND. - -The White Dust in the Goblet of Gold 20 - -CHAPTER THIRD. - -The Embrace of a Brother 31 - -CHAPTER FOURTH. - -The Death Trap 36 - -CHAPTER FIFTH. - -The Chamber of Mysteries 40 - -CHAPTER SIXTH. - -The Dream of the Damned 42 - -CHAPTER SEVENTH. - -The Cell of the Doomed 48 - -CHAPTER EIGHTH. - -Adrian the Doomed 53 - -CHAPTER NINTH. - -The Felon and the Duke 57 - -CHAPTER TENTH. - -The Chamber of the Duke 60 - - -BOOK THE SECOND. - -THE CAVERN OF ALBARONE. - -CHAPTER FIRST. - -The Pit of Darkness 65 - -CHAPTER SECOND. - -Robin alone in the Earth-hidden Cavern 67 - -CHAPTER THIRD. - -The Chapel of the Rocks 68 - -CHAPTER FOURTH. - -The Chapel of St. George of Albarone 73 - -CHAPTER FIFTH. - -The Cavern of Albarone 77 - -CHAPTER SIXTH. - -The Ordeal 82 - -CHAPTER SEVENTH. - -The Blow for the Winged Leopard 88 - -CHAPTER EIGHTH. - -The Page and the Damsel 93 - -CHAPTER NINTH. - -The Story of Guiseppo 95 - -CHAPTER TENTH. - -The Memory of Guilt 98 - -BOOK THE THIRD. - -LAST NIGHT OF THRICE SEVEN YEARS. - -CHAPTER FIRST. - -The Maiden in her Bower 105 - -CHAPTER SECOND. - -The Lady and the Yeoman 111 - -CHAPTER THIRD. - -The Valley of the Bowl 114 - -CHAPTER FOURTH. - -The Bridal Eve 117 - -CHAPTER FIFTH. - -The Bridal Morn 125 - -CHAPTER SIXTH. - -Sir Geoffrey O’ TH’ Longsword 131 - -CHAPTER SEVENTH. - -The Student and the Fair Stranger 135 - -CHAPTER EIGHTH. - -The Castle Gate 138 - -CHAPTER NINTH. - -Aldarin and his Future 143 - -CHAPTER TENTH. - -The Scholar Aldarin and the Lord Guiseppo 151 - -CHAPTER ELEVENTH. - -The White Waters of the Alembic 157 - -CHAPTER TWELFTH. - -The Trial of the Waters of Life 163 - -CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. - -The Oath 173 - -CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. - -The Fate of the Fratricide 178 - - -BOOK THE FOURTH. - -THE QUEEN OF FLORENCE. - -CHAPTER FIRST. - -A Silvery Moon and a Cloudless Sky 189 - -CHAPTER SECOND. - -The Cloud Gathers and the Sky Darkens 192 - -CHAPTER THIRD. - -The Death Bowl 195 - -CHAPTER FOURTH. - -The Cell of St. Areline 205 - -CHAPTER FIFTH. - -The Wonders of St. Areline 208 - -CHAPTER SIXTH. - -The Watch beside the Dead 211 - -CHAPTER SEVENTH. - -The Coffin and the Corse 213 - -CHAPTER EIGHTH. - -The Fate of the Betrayer 218 - -CHAPTER NINTH. - -Three Days Elapse 221 - -CHAPTER TENTH. - -The Mysteries of the Chronicle 224 - -CHAPTER ELEVENTH. - -The Buried Alive 230 - -CHAPTER TWELFTH. - -The Real more terrible than the Unreal 239 - -CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. - -The Cathedral of Florence 250 - - - - -The Scene of the Romance. - - -The moon arose! - -Reposing on the porch of an ancient mansion,--which, deserted and -falling to ruins, was pitched on the brow of a dizzy steep;--a -traveller, who had journeyed far and long, looked forth upon the night, -through an opening in the trees crowning the verge of the cliff, and, -with a soul filled with silent awe, beheld this scene of the grandeur of -nature, combined with the glories of art, and the stern memories of a -long past age. - -A lovely valley lay sleeping in the moonbeams: ancient towers, Gothic -temples, domes of religion, palaces of pleasure, rose clearly in the -air, from amid gardens gay with flowers, or forests heavy with foliage, -while around the scene of slumbering grandeur, swept the mighty -Apennines, lifting their blue peaks into the universe of azure that -arched above, silvered and tinted and mellowed by the midnight moon. - -A stream of tremulous silver wandered brightly through the valley, like -a banner waving along the blackness of night. The domes of an ancient -city, baptized by the strains of the Minstrel, and consecrated by the -words of the Romancer, were seen looming over the forest trees, from the -dim distance of the vale. - -The moon arose! - -There was softness, and beauty, and power, written on the wide sweep of -that boundless sky, with its horizon of blue mountains; there was solemn -silence resting on the night, and the angels of God might look down upon -the scene, and weep to think that a land so like heaven in its -gorgeousness of beauty, should be stamped with the footsteps of crimes -too mighty for belief, wrongs too dark for the page of history, woes -steeped in the very bitterness of death. - -It was the valley of the Arno, and the traveler gazed from the height -upon the distant City of Florence, surnamed the “Fair.” - -Arising in the calm moonbeams from the very centre of the valley, the -gray towers of a ruined castle broke abruptly into the dark azure of -night, looming from the distance like stern monuments of a past age, -lifting to heaven their testimony of the glory and the gloom of the -Gothic Era. - -It was the Castle of Albarone, the home of a mighty race who flourished -in long past centuries. Within the walls of the lonely castle,--lonely -because in ruins,--rising from the bosom of the Arno, and along the -shores of a mountain lake, not many leagues away, the tragedy of the -race of Albarone found its theatre of action, with vast multitudes of -men looking on, spectators or actors in its scene of varied and -contrasted horror. - -And as the traveller, wearied with his day’s journey, athirst from -fatigue and toil, uprose from his resting-place, and looked yet once -more upon the night, ere he hastened on his path to the Fair City of -Florence, his eye was again met by the stern vision of the castle -towering in ruins, and over his soul came a feeling of awe and horror, -as he mused upon the crimes and mysteries of the House of Albarone, -while the night around him grew more still, and the sky above more -shadowy in its beauty. - -And as he mused, a dark cloud covered the face of the moon, hovering -like a vast bird, with wings of night, and form of omen, right above the -ruined towers of Albarone. A moment passed, the sky was again all glory -and light, while still-- - -The moon arose! - - - - -BOOK THE FIRST. - -THE RED CHAMBER - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIRST. - -THE SIGNET RING OF ALBARONE. - - -HIGH NOON AMID THE OLD CASTLE WALLS. - -From the clear azure of the summer sky, the mid-day sun shone over the -lofty battlements and massive towers of an ancient castle, which, rising -amid the heights of a precipitous rock, lay basking in the warm -atmosphere; while along the spacious court-yard, and among the nooks and -crevices of the dark gray walls, the mellow beams fell lazily, gilding -each point they touched, and turning the blackened rocks to brightened -gold, with the voluptuous light of a summer noon. - -The massive cliff, from whose stern foundations the castle arose, sank -suddenly, with a precipitous descent, into the bed of the valley, while -around, venerable with the grandeur of ages, swept the magnificent -forest, with its mass of verdure mellowing in the sunlight; and, winding -on its way of silver, a broad and rapid stream, gleaming from the deep -green foliage, now gave each wave and ripple to the kiss of day, and -now, sweeping in its shadowy nooks, sheltered its beauty from the -dazzling light. - -Far along the view, forest towered over forest, and sloping meadows, -dotted with cottages, succeeded shelving fields, golden with wheat, or -gay with vines; while many a pleasant hill-side arose from amid the -embowering woods, with the peaceful summit sleeping in the sun-light, -and the straight shadows of the still noon resting along the depths of -the valley, from which it greenly ascended. - -Along the edge of the horizon, amid the tall peaks of the far-off -mountains, summer clouds, vast and gorgeous, lay basking in the -sunlight, with their fantastic forms, of every hue and shape--now dark, -now bright, now golden, now gray, and again white as the new-fallen -snow--all clearly and delicately relieved by the back-ground of azure, -transparent and glassy as the sky of some voluptuous dream. - -The hour was still and solemn, with the peculiar silence and solemnity -of the high noon; the broad banner floated heavily from the loftiest -tower of the castle, unruffled by a whisper of the wind; and along the -court-yard, and throughout the castle, a death-like silence reigned, -which betokened any thing save the presence of numerous bodies of armed -men within the castle walls. - -The sentinels who waited at the castle gate, rested indolently upon -their pikes, and glancing over the spacious court-yard, marked, with a -look of discontent, the absence of all signs of animation from those -walls which had so often rung with sounds of gay carousal and shouts of -merriment. All was still and solemn where, in days by-gone, not a sound -had awoke the echoes of the time-darkened walls save the loud laugh of -the careless reveller, the merry carol of the minstrel, or the glee-song -of the banquet hall. - -A footstep--a mailed and booted footstep--broke the silence of the air, -and presently, appearing from the shadow of the lofty hall door of the -castle, a stout and strong-limbed soldier emerged into the light of the -sun. As he descended the steps of stone, he paused for a moment, and -glanced around the court-yard. Stout, without being bulky in figure, the -person of the yeoman was marked by broad shoulders, a chest massive and -prominent, arms that were all bone and muscle, and legs that discovered -the bold and rugged outline of strong physical power, hardened by -fatigue and toil. - -He raised his cap of buff, surmounted by a dark plume, and plated with -steel, from his brow, and the sunbeams fell upon a rugged countenance, -darkened by the sun, and seamed by innumerable wrinkles, with a low, yet -massive forehead, a nose short, straight, yet prominent, a wide mouth, -with thin lips, and cheek-bones high and bold in outline, while his -clear blue eyes, with their quick and varying glance, afforded a strange -contrast to his toil-hardened and sunburnt features. Around his throat, -and over his prominent chin, grew a thick and rugged beard, dark as his -eyebrows in hue, while his hair, slightly touched by age, and worn short -and close, gave a marked outline to his head, that completed the -expression of dogged courage and blunt frankness visible in every -lineament of his countenance. - -Attired in doublet and hose of buff, defended by a plate of massive -steel on the breast, with smaller plates on each arm and leg, the yeoman -wore boots of slouching buckskin, while a broad belt of darkened -leather, thrown over his manly chest, supported the short, straight -sword, which depended from his left side. - -Having glanced along the court-yard, and marked the sentinels waiting -lazily beside the castle gate, the yeoman’s eye wandered to the banner -which clung heavily around the towering staff, and then depositing his -cap on his head with an air of discontent, as he again surveyed the -castle yard-- - -“St. Withold!” he cried, in a voice as rugged as his face--“St. Withold! -but some foul spell of the fiend’s own making has fallen upon these old -walls! All dull--all dead--all leaden! Even yon flag, which kissed the -breeze of the Holy Land, not three months agone, looks dull and drowsy. -‘Slife! a man might as well be dead as live in this manner. No -feasting--no songs--no carousing! Ugh! A pest take it all, I say! No -jousts--no tournaments--no mellays! The foul fiend take it, I say; and -Sathanas wither the heathen hand that winged the poisoned javelin at my -knightly Lord--Julian, Count of this gallant castle Di Albarone! The -foul fiend wither the hand of the paynim dog, I say!” - -“Ha, ha, ha! my good Robin,” laughed a clear and youthful voice, “by my -troth, thou’rt sadly out of temper! What has ruffled thee, my -buff-and-buckskin? Holy Mary--_what_ a face!” - -Robin turned, and beheld the slender form of a daintily appareled youth, -whose full cheeks were wrinkled with laughter, while his merry hazel -eyes seemed dancing in the light of their own glee. - -“Out of temper!” exclaimed rough Robin, as he glanced at the laughing -youth; “out of temper! By St. Withold! there’s good reason for’t, too. -Look ye, my bird of a page, never since I left the service of mine own -native prince, the brave Richard, of the Lion Heart--never since the day -when the gallant Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword drew his sword in the wars of -Palestine, under the banner of Count Julian Di Albarone, have I felt so -sick, so wearied in heart, as I do this day--mark ye, my page! ‘Out of -temper,’ forsooth! Answer me, then, popinjay--does not our gallant Lord -Julian lie wasting away in yon sick-chamber, with the poison of an -incurable wound eating his very heart? Answer me that, Guiseppo.” - -“Ay, marry does he, my good Robin,” the page answered, as he played with -a jeweled chain that hung from his neck; “but then thou knowest he will -recover. He will again mount his war-horse! Ay, my good Lord Julian will -again lead armies to battle in the wilds of Palestine! He will, by my -troth, Rough Robin!” - -“I fear me, never, never,” the yeoman replied, in a subdued tone. “Look -ye, Guiseppo, what dost think of this thin-faced half-brother of the -Count, the scholar Aldarin? There’s a mystery about the man--I like him -not. Thy master, the Duke of Florence, hath now been three days at this -good castle of Albarone--why is he so much in the company of this -keen-eyed Aldarin? By St. Withold! I like it not. Marry, boy, but the -devil’s a-brewing a pretty pot of yeast for somebody’s bread! Guiseppo, -canst tell me naught concerning the object of the visit of thy master, -the Duke, to this castle--hey, boy?” - -“Why, Robin,” replied the page, as, placing one small hand on either -side of his slender waist, he glanced at the yeoman with a sidelong -look; “why, Robin, didst ever hear of--of--the fair Ladye Annabel? Eh, -Robin?” - -“The fair Ladye Annabel! Tut! boy, thou triflest with me. The fair Ladye -Annabel--she is the lovely daughter of this crusty old scholar. Her -mother was an Eastern woman; and the fair girl first saw the light in -the wilds of Palestine, when the scholar Aldarin accompanied his brother -thither. Marry, ’tis more than sixteen--seventeen years since. ’Tis long -ago--very long. By St. Withold! those were merry days. But come, sir -page, why name the Ladye Annabel and the Duke in the same breath?” - -The restless Guiseppo sprang aside with a nimble movement, and then -folding his arms, stood at the distance of a few paces, regarding the -stout yeoman with a look of mock gravity and solemn humor. - -“What wouldst give to know, Robin?” he exclaimed, with a peculiar -contortion of his mirthful face. “Hark ye, my stout yeoman, ‘My Lord Duke -of Florence and the Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence.’ Dost like the -sound? What says my rough soldier, now?” - -“I see a light,” slowly responded Robin; “I see a light!” and he slowly -drew his sword half-way from the scabbard. “But as yet ’tis but a -pestilent Jack o’ lanthorn light, dancing about a tangled marsh of pits -and bogs, with plenty o’hidden traps to catch honest men by the heels, -i’ faith. Annabel and the Duke! Ho--ho! Then the game’s up with the son -o’ th’ Count--my Lord Adrian?” - -“Wag that clumsy tongue o’ thine with a spice o’ caution, Robin,” -whispered the merry page. “See, the sharp-faced steward o’ th’ castle -draws nigh, and with him a group of sworn grumblers. The four old -esquires who followed our lord to battle in the wilds o’ Palestine--a -soldier, with a carbuncled visage, and a lounging servitor, the huntsman -o’ th’ castle. Hark! didst ever hear such eloquent growling?” - -And as Robin turned to listen, he beheld the strangely contrasted party -lounging slowly along the castle yard, with the indolent gait of men -having little to do save to eat, to drink, to sleep, and to gossip, -while around them the lazy hours of the silent castle-walls dragged -onward with wings of lead. - -“Talk not to me of thrift, sir steward,” cried the bluff-faced and -thick-headed huntsman. “When my Lord, Count Julian, was well--not a day -passed but a lusty buck was steaming on the castle hearth--” - -“Wine flowed like water,” chimed in the soldier with the fiery nose. -“Your true soldier swore by his beaker alone--” - -“_Now!_” interrupted the sharp-faced steward, waving his thin hands, and -with an expressive shrug of the shoulders; “_now_, my lord the Count is -_sick_. The scholar Aldarin hath the rule. Tell me, sir huntsman, and -you, sir, of the fiery nose, is there any waste o’ flesh or liquor in -the castle? Is not the signer careful of the beeves of my lord. No -longer are we quiet folks disturbed by your carousings: no silly dances, -no rude catches o’ vile camp-follower songs! By the Virgin, no!” - -“By the true wood o’ th’ cross, sir steward, thou’rt a rare one!” -growled a white-haired esquire, as his scarred and sunburnt visage was -turned angrily toward the sharp-faced steward. “Dost think men o’ mettle -are made o’ such broomstick bones and mud-puddle blood as thou? Body o’ -Bacchus, no! ‘No carousing!’ I’d e’en like to see thee on a jolly -carouse!” - -“Say rather, sir esquire,” Robin the Rough exclaimed, as the party -reached his side, “say rather, you’d e’en wish to see a death’s-head -making mirth at a feast, or a funeral procession strike up a jolly -fandango! Sir steward at a feast!--the owl at a gathering o’ -nightingales!” - -The sharped-faced steward was about to make an angry reply, when a -sudden thrill ran through the party. Each tongue was stilled, and each -man stood motionless in the full glare of the noon-day sun. - - * * * * * - -“Hist! The Signor Aldarin approaches,” whispered the page Guiseppo. “He -comes from the castle gate along to the castle hall.” - -And as each head was stealthily turned over the shoulder toward the -castle gate, there came gliding along, with cat-like steps and downcast -look, a man of severe aspect, whose gray eye--cold, flashing, and clear, -in its unchangeable glance--seemed as though it could read the very -heart. - -A tunic of dark velvet, disclosing the spare outlines of his slim -figure, reached to his ankles, and over this garment, depending from his -right shoulder, he wore a robe of similar color, passed under his left -arm, joined in front by a chain of gold, and then falling in sweeping -folds to his sandaled feet. - -A cap of dark fur, bright with a single gem of strange lustre, gave a -striking relief to his high, pale forehead, seamed by a single deep -wrinkle, shooting upward from between the eyebrows, while his gray hair -fell in slight masses down along the hollow cheeks and over his neck and -shoulders. - -“This is the--scholar!” growled one of the white-haired esquires. “His -days have been passed in the laboratory, while his brother’s sword hath -flashed at the head of armies.” - -“The saints preserve me from the wizard-tribe, say I!” muttered Robin -the Rough; and as he spoke, with an involuntary movement of fear, the -party separated on either side of the castle hall, leaving room for the -passage of the Signor Aldarin. - -He came slowly onward, with his head downcast, neither looking to the -one side nor to the other. He ascended the steps of stone, and in a -moment was lost to the view of the loiterers in the castle yard. - -The hall of the castle passed, a passage traversed, and another stairway -ascended, the stooping scholar stood in a small ante-chamber, with the -light of the noon-day sun subdued to a twilight obscurity by the absence -of windows from the place, while an evening gloom hung around the narrow -walls, the arching ceiling of darkened stone, and the floor of -tesselated marble. A single casement, long and narrow, reaching from -floor to arch, gave entrance to a straggling beam of daylight, -disclosing the stout and muscular form of a man-at-arms, with armor and -helmet of steel, who, pike in hand, waited beside a massive door, -opening into one of the principal apartments of the castle. - -With a soft, gliding footstep, the Signor Aldarin glided along the -tesselated floor, and stood beside the man-at-arms, ere he was aware of -his approach. - -“Ha! Balvardo, thou keepest strict watch beside the sick chamber of my -lord.” The words broke from the Signor Aldarin. “Hast obeyed my behest?” - -“E’en so, my lord,” the sentinel began, in a rough, surly tone. - -“How, vassal! Dost name me with the title of my brother? Have a care, -good Balvardo, have a care!” - -“He chides me in a rough voice,” murmured the sentinel, as though -speaking to his own ear; “and yet a wild light flashes over his features -at the word. Signor, I but mistook the word--a slip o’ th’ tongue,” he -exclaimed aloud. “Thy behests have been obeyed. No one has been suffered -to pass into the chamber of my Lord Di Albarone since morning dawn, save -the fair Ladye Annabel, who waits beside the couch of the wounded -knight.” - -“Come hither, Balvardo. Look from this narrow window: mark you well the -dial-plate in the castle yard. In a few moments the shadow will sweep -across the path of high noon. When high noon and the shadow meet, thy -charge is over. The soothing potion which I gave my brother at daybreak, -will have taken its proper effect. Until that moment, keep strict watch: -let not a soul enter the Red Chamber on the peril of thy life!” - -And with the command, the Signor swept from the ante-chamber, gliding -along a corridor opposite the one from which he had just emerged, and -his low footsteps in a moment had ceased to echo along the dark old -arches. - -“He is gone,” the sentinel murmured, slowly pacing the tesselated floor. -“He comes like a cat--he glides hence like a ghost. Hark! footsteps from -opposite corridors meeting in this ante-chamber. By’r Lady! here comes -Adrian, the son of this sick lord, and from the opposite gallery emerges -the monk Albertine, the tool and counsellor of my Lord of Florence. ’Tis -a moody monk and a shrewd boy. I’faith, there’s a pair o’ ’em.” - -And as he spoke, sweeping from the shadows of the northern gallery came -a dark-robed monk, walking with hastened step, his arms folded on his -breast, and his head drooped low, as if in thought, while the outlines -of his face were enveloped in the folds of his priestly cowl. And as he -swept onward toward the centre of the ante-chamber, from the southern -gallery, with slow and solemn steps, advanced a youth of some twenty -summers, attired in the gay dress of a cavalier, with a frank, open -visage, marked by the lines of premature thought, and relieved by rich -and luxuriant locks of golden hair sweeping along each cheek down to the -shoulders. - -“Whither speed ye, Lord Adrian?” exclaimed the deep, sonorous voice of -the monk, as the twain met breast to breast in the centre of the rich -mosaic floor. “Whither speed ye, heir of Albarone, at this hour?” - -“Whither do I speed?” cried the cavalier, starting with sudden surprise. -“Sir monk, I wend to the sick-chamber of my father.” - -The monk grasped the cavalier suddenly by the right hand, and raised it -as suddenly in the light of the sunbeams streaming through the solitary -window. - -“An hour since, this hand was graced by a signet ring: the signet ring -which has been an heirloom in thy house for centuries. Dost remember the -prophecy spoken of that strange ring? Dost remember the rude lines of -the vandal seer: - - ‘While treasured and holily worn, - An omen of glory and good: - When from the hand the ruby is torn, - An omen of doom and of blood.’” - -“Sir monk, the lines are rude; yet I mind me well the words of the -prophecy, are an household sound to an heir of Albarone. Yet why this -sudden grasp of my hand? Why thus urgent? The fire in thine eye seems -not of earth.” - -“Lord Adrian, by the Virgin tell me how long since parted this finger -from the ruby signet ring of thy house? Never parted that ring from the -hand of heir of Albarone, without sudden evil, fearful doom, or unheard -of death, gathering thick and dark around thy house!” - -“I missed not the signet ring till this moment. An instant ago, I was in -my chamber. Thy air is strange and solemn for the confessor of this -jovial Duke, yet I will turn me, and seek the signet without delay. Thy -warning may be well-timed.” - -“Boy, a word in thine ear. My life has been strange and dark. I have -loved the shadow rather than the light. I have courted the glare of -corruption in the midnight charnel-house, rather than the blaze of the -noon-day sun. I have made me a home amid strange mysteries, and from the -tomes of darksome lore I have wrung the secrets of the hidden world.” - -“To what tends all this, sir monk? By’r Ladye, thou’rt strangely -moved!” - -“And from my hidden lore have I learned this mystery of mysteries. When -the stillness of midnight hangs like lead over the noon-day hour--when, -at mid-noon, a strange, solemn, and voiceless silence pervades the air, -spreads through the universe, and impresses the heart of each living -thing with a feeling of unutterable AWE, then wicked men are doing, in -the sight of heaven, with the laughter of fiends in their ears, some -deed of horror, that the fiends tremble ’mid their laughter to behold. -Some deed of nameless horror, which thrills the universe with AWE, -making the hour of noon more terrible than midnight in the -charnel-house. Look abroad, Adrian--’tis high noon. Dost hear a sound, a -whisper of the wind? All silent as death--all still as the grave! The -silence of this nameless AWE is upon the noon-day hour. Adrian, to thy -chamber, to thy chamber, and rest not till the signet ring again -encircles thy finger! There is a doom upon this hour!” - -And with these words, uttered in a low, yet deep and piercing tone, the -monk glided from the ante-chamber; and the cavalier, without a word, as -hastily retraced his steps, and in an instant had disappeared in the -shadow of the southern gallery. - -“Whispered words!” muttered the bull-headed man-at-arms. “A ring! What -about a ring? Ha--ha! The Monk and the Springald commune together--well! -I could not make out their secret, but--but, the ring!” - -And raising his sturdy form to its full height, with a grim smile on his -bearded face, Balvardo glanced around the ante-chamber, and then, with a -low chuckle, he let his pike fall heavily upon the pavement of stone. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SECOND. - -THE WHITE DUST IN THE GOBLET OF GOLD. - - -In a lofty apartment of the castle, hung with rich folds of crimson -tapestry, and designated from time past memory as the Red Chamber, on a -couch of gorgeous hangings, lay the once muscular, but now -disease-stricken, Julian, Count of Albarone, shorn of his warrior -strength, divested of the glory of his manhood’s prime. - -The warm sunlight which filled the place, fell with a golden glow over -the outlines of his lofty brow, indented with wrinkles, the long gray -hair parted on either side, the eyebrows, snow-white, overarching the -clear, bold eyes, that sent forth their glance with all the fire and -intensity of youth, rendered more vivid and flame-like by the contrast -of sunken eyelid and hollow cheek. - -And by the bedside of the warrior, bending like an angel of good, as she -ministered to his slightest wants, the form of a fair and lovely maiden -was disclosed in the noon-day light, while her flaxen curls fell -lightly, and with a waving motion, over the rich bloom of her cheek, -glowing with the warmth of fifteen summers, and her full, large eyes of -liquid blue, gleamed with the expression of a soul, whose fruits were -pure and happy thoughts, the buds and blossoms of innocence and youth. - -“Annabel,”--said the warrior, in a voice faint with disease--“Methinks I -feel the strength of youth again returning; the sleeping potion of my -good brother, Aldarin, has done me wondrous service. Assist me to the -casement, child of mine heart, that I may gaze once more upon the broad -lands and green woods of my own domain of Albarone.”---- - -As he spoke, the Count rose on his feet, with a tottering movement, and -had fallen to the floor, but for the fair arm of the maiden wound around -his waist, while his muscular hand rested upon her shoulder. - -“Lean upon my arm, my uncle,--tread with a careful footstep. In a moment -we will reach the casement.” - -They stood within the recess of the emblazoned window, the warrior and -the maiden, while around them floated and shimmered the golden sunshine, -falling over the tesselated stone of the pavement, throwing a glaring -light around the hangings of the bed, and streaming in flashes of -brightness among the distant corners and nooks of the Red Chamber. - -’Tis a fair land, niece of mine,--a fair and lovely land.--” - -“A land of dreams, a land of magnificent visions, overshadowed by yon -blue mountains of romance. Look, my uncle, how the noon-day sun is -showering his light over the deep woods that encircle the rock of -Albarone--yonder, beyond the verdure of the trees, winds the silvery -Arno; yonder are hills and rugged steeps, and far away tower the blue -heights of the Apennines!” - -“And here, niece of mine, in my youthful prime I stood, when my aged -father’s hand had dubbed me--knight. ’Twas such a quiet noon-day hour, -on a calm and dream-like day as this, that, from the recess of this -window, I gazed upon yon gorgeous land. How the blood swelled in my -youthful veins; how dreams of ambition fired my boyish fancy, as the -words broke from my lips,--‘Here they ruled, my fathers, in days -by-gone, with the iron sword of the Goth; here they reigned as sovereign -princes--as Dukes of Florence.’” - -“Since that noon-day hour thy sword has flashed in the van of a thousand -battles!” - -“It has--it has! And yet what am I now? Old before my time, swept away -from the path of glory, as I neared the goal! A warrior should never -utter a word of complaint--and yet--by the Sacrament of Heaven, I had -much rather died with sword in hand, at the head of my hosts, than to -wither away with this festering wound on yonder couch. I like not to -count the pulsations of my dying heart.” - -“Nay, my uncle,--chide not so bitterly. Thou wilt recover--thy sword -will again flash at the head of armies!” - -“My sword, Annabel, my sword,”--cried the warrior, as his eyes lit up -with a strange brilliancy, and his wan features were crimsoned by a -ruddy flush. - -In a moment, the fair hands of the maiden bore the sword from its -resting-place, in a nook of the Red Chamber, with a slow and weary -movement, as though the massive piece of iron which she trailed along -the marble floor, exceeded her maidenly strength to lift on high. - -“It is my sword, it is my sword”--shrieked the warrior, as he flung the -robes of purple back from his muscular, though attenuated shoulder, and -raised his proud form to its full height--“Look, Annabel, how it gleams -in the light! So it gleamed on the walls of Jerusalem, so it shone aloft -over the desert-sands of the Syrian wilderness! It will gleam over the -battle-field again! Ay, again will the snow-white plume of Julian Di -Albarone wave over the ranks of the fray, while ten thousand warriors -hail that plume as their beacon-light!” - -He swung the sword aloft in the air; his whole form was moved by -excitement; every vein filled and every pulse throbbed; his eye flashed -like a thing of flame, and his whitened lip trembled with the glorious -expression of battle-scorn. - -Thrice he waved the sword around his head; but when the impulse of this -sudden excitement died away, his eyes lost their flashing brightness, -his limbs their vigor, and Julian of Albarone tottered as he stood upon -the marble floor, and stepping hurriedly backward, fell heavily upon the -couch of the Red Chamber. - -“The goblet, fair niece--the goblet on the beaufet. Haste thee--I am -faint.” - -As the words broke gaspingly from the sick man’s lips, the Ladye Annabel -turned hastily to bring the goblet, and as she turned, she beheld the -head of Lord Julian resting uneasily on his pillow, while his left arm -hung heavily over the side of the couch. - -She turned again with trembling footsteps, and hastened to arrange the -pillow of the sick warrior. Her fair hands smoothed the pillow of down, -and she gently raised his head from the couch. - -At the very instant, the tapestry in a dark corner of the Red Chamber -rustled quickly to and fro, as a figure, muffled in a sweeping cloak of -crimson, emerged into view, and treading across the tesselated pavement, -with a footstep like a spirit of the unreal air, it approached the -beaufet of ebony, and a white hand, glittering with a single ring, was -extended for a moment over the goblet of gold. - -The Ladye Annabel placed the head of Lord Julian gently upon the pillow -of down. - -_The glittering ring shone in the sun, as it fell in the goblet of gold, -and the hand of the figure, white as alabaster, was again concealed in -the thick folds of the crimson robe._ - -The Ladye Annabel, with her delicate hands, parted the gray hairs from -the sick man’s face, and swept them back from his brow. - -_The figure in robes of crimson, strode with a noiseless footstep across -the apartment, and sought the shelter of the hangings of tapestry, with -as strange a silence as it had emerged from their folds._ - -Without taking notice of the white dust that covered the bottom of the -empty goblet, Annabel filled it with generous wine, and approached the -bedside of her uncle. The Count raised himself from the pillow, and -lifted the goblet to his lips. As his wan face was reflected in the -ruddy wavelets of the wine, he fixed his full large eyes upon the lovely -face of Annabel, with a look of affection, mingled with an expression so -strange, so solemn and dread, that it dwelt in the soul of the maiden -for years. - -He drank, and drained the goblet to the dregs. - -“Thank thee--fair niece--thank thee.” - -He paused suddenly, his arms he flung wildly from him, a thin, glassy -film gathered over his eyes, a gurgling noise sounded in his throat, and -he fell heavily upon the couch. - -His features were knit in a fearful expression of pain and suffering, -his mouth opened with a ghastly grimace, leaving the teeth visible, the -lips were agitated by a convulsive pang, and his eyes, sternly fixed, -glared wildly from beneath the eyebrows woven in a frown. - -“My uncle--my father,”--shrieked the Ladye Annabel, rushing to the -bedside--“Look not so wildly, gaze not so sternly upon me. Speak, my -uncle, oh, speak!” - -Her utterance failed, and an indistinct murmur broke from her lips. Her -hands ran hurriedly over the brow of the warrior--it was cold with -beaded drops of moisture. She bent hastily over the form of Lord Julian, -she imprinted a kiss on his parted lips. She kissed the lips of the -dead! - -Then the tapestry, the hangings of the Red Chamber, the couch, with its -ghastly corse, all swam round her in a fearful dance, and the Ladye -Annabel fell insensible on the floor. - -_The great bell of the Castle of Albarone tolled forth the hour of noon. -The shadow of death had been flung across the dial-plate in the -castle-yard._ - -While the thunder-like tones of the bell went swinging and quivering, -and echoing among the old castle halls, a footstep was heard without the -Red Chamber, and the door was flung suddenly open. - -A young Cavalier, with a face marked by frank, open features, locks of -rich gold, and an eye of blue, while his handsome form was clad in a gay -dress of velvet, entered the apartment, and strode with hurried steps to -the couch. - -He cast one look at the face of the corse, marked by the ghastly grimace -of death; he cast one quick and hasty glance at the form of the Ladye -Annabel, thrown insensible along the floor of stone, and then he covered -his face with his trembling hands, and his manly form was convulsed by a -shuddering tremor, that shook the folds of his blue doublet, as though -every sinew writhed in agony beneath the gay apparel. - -The heavy sob, which unutterable anguish alone can bring from the heart -of a proud man, broke on the deep silence of the room, and the big heavy -tear-drops of man’s despair came trickling between the clasped fingers, -pressed over his countenance. - -“He is dead--my father--he is dead!” - -He mastered the first terrible impulse of grief, and raised the swooning -maiden from the floor. - -“He is dead--my father”--again sounded the husky voice of the Cavalier. -“Thou, Annabel, art all that is left to me--I am--” - -“_A murderer_--_a parricide!_” cried a sharp and piercing voice, that -thrilled to the very heart of the cavalier. - -He turned hurriedly as he grasped the maiden with his good right arm, he -turned and beheld--_the Scholar Aldarin_. - -His glance was fixed and stern, while, with one hand half-upraised, with -his thick eyebrows darkening in a frown, he stood regarding the Cavalier -with a look that was meant to rend his inmost heart. - -“What means this outcry in the presence of the dead?” exclaimed Adrian -in a determined tone--“Let our past disputes be forgotten, old man, in -this terrible hour. See you not, my father lies stark and dead?” - -“Murdered by _thee_, vile parricide!”--rang out the voice of the Signior -Aldarin, as, with a determined step, he advanced to the bedside--“Ho! -Guards, I say”--he shouted, raising his voice--“Vassals of Albarone, to -the rescue!” - -The eye of the young Cavalier brightened, his brow was knit, and his -form erected to its full height as he spoke, in a quiet, determined -tone. - -“Look ye, old man, thou mayst taunt and gibe with thy magpie tongue, as -long as the humor pleases thee. My father’s brother need fear no wrong -from me--this maiden’s father can fear no harm from Adrian Di Albarone. -Heap taunt on taunt, good Signior, but see that this spirit of insult is -not carried into action. I am lord in the castle of my fathers!” - -“Father, what mean those wild words, these looks of anger?” shrieked the -Ladye Annabel, as she awoke from her swoon of terror, and, supported by -the arm of Adrian, glanced round the scene--“Surely, my father, you -speak not aught against Lord Adrian?” - -And as she spoke, the chamber was filled with men-at-arms, in their -glittering armor, and servitors of Albarone, all attired in the livery -of the house, who came thronging into the apartment, and circled round -the scene, while their mouths were agape, and their eyes protruding with -astonishment. - -Aldarin glanced around the throng, he marked each stalwart man-at-arms, -each strong-limbed yeoman of the guard, and then his chest heaved and -his eye flashed as he shouted-- - -“Seize him, men of Albarone, _seize the murderer of your lord_!” - -He pointed to Adrian Di Albarone as he spoke. There was one wild thrill -of terror and amazement, spreading through the group, a confused murmur, -bursting involuntarily from every lip, and then all was still as death. - -Not a man stirred, not a servitor moved, but all remained like statues, -clustering round the group in their centre, where Aldarin stood with his -slender form raised to its full stature, his arm outstretched and his -eye flashing like a flame-coal, while Adrian gathered the Ladye Annabel -in his good right arm, and gazed upon the Signor with a look of -concentrated scorn. - -“Seize him, guards”--again shouted Aldarin--“seize the Parricide!” - -There was the sound of a heavy footstep, and the form of the stout -yeoman emerged from the group. - -“Not quite so fast--marry, my good Signor, not quite so fast”--he cried -as he advanced. “By St. Withold, I have followed my old lord to many a -hard-fought fight, I have served him by night and by day, with hand and -heart, for a score of long years. Shall I stand by, and see his brave -son suffer wrong?” - -“What means this wild uproar?” exclaimed a calm yet half-indignant -voice, as the stately dame of the Lord Di Albarone, yet unaware of her -bereavement, crossed the threshold with a lofty step and an extended -arm, advancing, with the port of a queen, to the centre of the group. -“Vassals--what means this wild uproar? Know ye not that your lord lies -deadly sick? Brother Aldarin, I take it ill of you to suffer the clamor! -What can our liege of Florence think of ye, vassals, when he beholds ye -thus assail the sick-chamber of your lord with noise and outcry!” - -The stately dame pointed to a richly attired cavalier, who had followed -her into the apartment. He was a well-formed man, with a face marked by -no definite expression. His dark hair gathered, in short, stiff curls -around a low and unmeaning forehead; his small dark eyes, protruding -from his head, seemed to be trying their utmost to outstrip his faintly -delineated eyebrows; the nose, neither aquiline, classic, or Judaic, -seemed composed of all the varieties of nasal organ; his upper lip was -garnished with a portion of the wiry beard that flourished on his -prominent chin; his lips were thick and sensual, while his entire face -was as inexpressive as might be. The throng bowed low, as they became -aware of the presence of the guest of their late lord. They bowed to the -Duke of Florence. - -“Adrian, my son,” cried the Lady of Albarone, turning to her son in -utter amazement, “what means this scene of confusion and alarm?” - -Adrian took his mother by the hand, and led her to the couch. He spoke -not a word, but waved his hand toward the couch. Her form was concealed -for a moment amid the hangings of the bed, and then a shriek of wild -emphasis startled the ears of the bystanders. - -“He is dead,” exclaimed the Lady of Albarone, in a voice of unnatural -calmness, as she again appeared from amid the hangings of the bed, with -a face ghastly and livid as the face of death. “Vassals of Albarone, -your lord is dead!” - -There was a cry of horror echoing through the chamber, and the Lady of -Albarone sank, leaning for support upon the arm of her son, while -Annabel, in the intervals of her own sobs and sighs, whispered hurried -words of consolation in her ear. - -Aldarin stood regarding the group with a glance of deep and searching -meaning. He gazed upon the vacant features of the Duke, distended by -surprise, the countenance of Adrian, marked by a settled frown of -indignation, the visage of the Countess, livid as death; and then the -fair face of his daughter Annabel, her eyes swimming in tears, the -parted lips and the cheek pale and flushed by turns, met the glance of -Aldarin, and a strange expression trembled on his compressed lip, and -darkened over his high forehead. - -“Lady of Albarone,” exclaimed the Scholar, advancing,--“Lady of -Albarone, my brother died not through the course of nature, he died not -by the hand of disease--he was murdered!” - -“Murdered!” repeated the Countess with a hollow echo. - -And the Duke took up the word, echoing, with a trembling voice, that -word of fear, “murdered,” while the Servitors of Albarone sent the cry -shrieking around the nooks and corners of the Red Chamber. - -Adrian of Albarone looked around the scene and smiled as if in scorn, -but said not a word. - -Aldarin made one stride to the couch of death. - -“Behold the corse,” he shrieked; “behold the blackened face, the sunken -eyelids and the livid lips; behold the ghastly remains of the Lord of -Albarone!” - -Another stride, and he reached the beaufet. He seized the goblet of -gold, and held it aloft. - -“Behold,” he cried, “behold the instrument of his murder!” - -“God save me now,” shrieked the Countess.--“There has been foul work -here--Adrian--oh, Adrian, thy sire hath been poisoned!” - -“This is some new mysterie, Sir Scholar,” exclaimed Adrian, with a look -of scorn. - -The Lady fell insensible, and the goblet rung with a clanging sound upon -the marble floor, while from its depths there rolled a small compact -substance, encrusted in some chemical compound, white as snow in hue. - -The Duke of Florence stooped hurriedly to the very floor, and seized -both the goblet and the encrusted substance, with an eager grasp. - -“Ha! There is a white sediment deposited at the bottom of this goblet. -Albertine, advance; thou art skilled in such mysteries. Tell me, Sir -Monk, the nature of this white powder.” - -The Monk Albertine, whose dark eyes had for a moment been gleaming over -the shoulders of the bystanders, now advanced with a slow and measured -footstep, and confronted the Signor Aldarin, with a look full of meaning -and thought. Aldarin returned the look, with a keen and searching -glance, and their eyes then mingled in one long and ardent gaze, as -though each man wished to read the heart of his fellow. - -With a look of calmness and perfect self-possession, Albertine turned to -the Duke and took the goblet from his hand. - -He gazed at its depths for a moment; he was about to speak, when the -heart of every man in the Red Chamber was thrilled by a wild and -terrific howl, more fearful even than the yell of the dying, which -proceeded from among the curtains of the death-couch, and echoed around -the apartment. - -“That sound,” exclaimed Aldarin, with a nervous start--“That sound is -from the couch of death! It means, it means--” - -A ruddy glow passed over his pale countenance, and, suddenly pausing, he -gazed round the group in silence. - -“It is the poor hound of our good Lord;” muttered Robin the Rough, -advancing. “The hound, with skin black as death, which Lord Julian -brought from Palestine--he is howling over the dead corse of his master. -So have I heard him howl for three days past, as the castle-bell tolled -the hour of high noon, beside the panels of yonder door. Come hither, -brute; come hither, Saladin.” - -The hound, black as night, with an eye like fire, came leaping through -the throng, and crouched, whining, at the feet of the stout yeoman. - -It was, in sooth, a noble hound, with full chest, slender limbs, long -neck, and tapering body, marked by all that delicacy of proportion, that -beauty of shape, and grace of motion, which tradition ascribes to the -bloodhounds of the Eastern lands. The head was like the head of a snake, -while the eye seemed almost instinct with a human soul. - -“Sir Monk,” cried the Duke, in an imperious tone, “were it not better -for thee to tell us at once whether the white powder in the goblet is -poison? or shall we wait thy pleasure while thou dost weary thine eyes -with gazing at yonder hound?” - -The monk Albertine made a solemn inclination of his head, and kneeling -on the marble floor in the centre of the group, he struck the edge of -the goblet upon the tesselated stone with a quick and sudden motion of -his hand. - -The diamond-shaped stone of black marble was strewn with the white -sediment deposited in the bottom of the goblet. - -The hound sprang forward, and while his wild eyes flashed and blazed, -his nostrils dilated, and the sable animal snuffed the atmosphere of the -Red Chamber, as he leaped quickly around the group. - -“He snuffs the smell of human blood!” muttered the stout yeoman. - -And while all was intense interest and suspense, while a mingled feeling -of surprise and terror and nameless fear ran around the group, while -every eye was fixed upon the kneeling form of Albertine, with the goblet -upraised in his hand, the hound Saladin passed from man to man, scenting -the garments of the bystanders, and glancing wildly from face to face, -from eye to eye. - -He paused for a moment in front of the Signor Aldarin, and uttered a low -whining sound as he gazed in the scholar’s face. - -“How long is this mummery to last?” exclaimed Aldarin, advancing with a -sudden step--“Tell me, Sir Monk, is thy study over?” - -The hound Saladin sprang suddenly aside from the robes of the Signor, -and eagerly snuffing the marble floor, approached the monk Albertine, -and with a moaning sound licked the white substance from the -diamond-shaped stone. - -“Is it poison?” asked the Duke, and the interest of the group clustered -around became absorbing and intense. - -“Some new mysterie of thine, learned scholar!” exclaimed Adrian Di -Albarone, with a smile of incredulity. “The man does not live, so false -in heart as to place a death-bowl to the lips of a warrior like Julian -of Albarone!” - -“Is it poison!” exclaimed Albertine, gazing round upon the -group--“Behold!” - -And as he spoke, the hound Saladin fell stiffened and dead, upon the -marble pavement, with a single fearful struggle, a single terrible -howl.--His limbs were fearfully distorted, and his eyes were starting -from their sockets, while a thin white foam hung round his serpent-like -jaw. - -A confused cry of horror thundered around the apartment, and then you -might have heard the footsteps of the Invisible Death, all was so -fearfully silent and still. - -“As God lives, my father has been murdered!” shouted Adrian Di Albarone, -as the expression of incredulity lately visible in his manly face -changed to a look of pallid horror--“Now, by the Sacrament of God, he -shall be avenged as never was murdered man avenged before! Who,” he -shrieked in a husky voice, turning to the throng--“Who hath done this -murder?” - -“Sir Duke,” exclaimed Aldarin, as though he had not heard Adrian, “the -encrusted substance which fell from the death-bowl may be poisonous--” - -The small white ball, which the Duke had absently clenched in his -fingers, fell to the floor, and every ear heard a ringing sound as it -fell, and every eye beheld the fragments splintering as it touched the -floor. The whole substance had vanished, and along the floor there -rolled a massive signet ring, glittering with a single ruby. - -The Duke of Florence stooped hastily and again grasped the ring; he held -it aloft, and shouted, in a tone of amazement and horror-- - -“It is the ring of the murderer, dropped by accident into the -death-bowl! It bears a crest and an inscription--look, Signor -Aldarin--canst make out crest or inscription?” - -Aldarin replied with a look of horror-- - -“The crest, ’tis a Winged Leopard--the motto--‘_Grasp boldly, and -bravely strike_!’ Both crest and motto are those of Albarone”--his voice -sank to a death-like whisper--“Lord Adrian--behold--_it is, it is the -signet-ring of Albarone_!” - -Aldarin turned with a voice of fierce emphasis-- - -“Thy question has its answer--let the signet-ring tell the tale. Adrian, -oh, Adrian,” he continued, as his voice changed with mingled compassion -and anguish--“what moved thee to this fearful deed? Oh, that I, a weak -old man, should live to see my brother’s son accused of that brother’s -murder!” - -“This is some damning plot!” calmly responded Adrian, though his chest -heaved and swelled with the tempest aroused in his soul--“Tell me, -Signor Aldarin, what were the contents of the ‘soothing’ potion -administered by thee to the late Lord Julian at daybreak?” - -“Tell me, good Albertine, thou didst aid in its composition, and thou -canst witness when I gave it to my murdered brother.” - -“I aided in its composition--it was harmless--I saw thee minister the -potion to Lord Julian.” - -“Thou alone, Aldarin, thou alone hast had access to this chamber since -daybreak”--spoke Adrian, with his calm eye fixed full on the Signor’s -visage--“Now tell me who it was that drugged yon bowl with death?” - -“Balvardo, thou didst stand sentinel at yon door from daybreak until -high noon--did a soul enter the Red Chamber from the first moment to the -last second of thy watch?” - -“Not a living man”--muttered the hoarse voice of Balvardo from the -crowd--“not a soul save the Ladye Annabel.” - -“Search the apartment!” shouted the Duke; “the assassin may be yet -lurking in some dark nook or corner!” - -The doors were closed, the search commenced. Every nook was ransacked, -every corner thrown open to the light, not even the bed of death, with -its pillows of down and its hangings of purple, was spared. - -While the search was in progress, the Countess of Albarone awoke from -her swoon, and striding from the recess of an emblazoned window, where -the Ladye Annabel remained glancing with a vacant look over the strange -scene progressing in the Red Chamber, she was soon made aware of the -fearful crime charged upon her son, the signet-ring and the terrible -mystery. - -“There is mystery,” she cried with a proud voice, “there is mystery, -but--no dishonor!--Who can believe Adrian Di Albarone guilty of so -accursed an act!” - -“For one, I do not!” bluntly cried the stout yeoman. - -“Nor I!” cried one of the servitors; and the cry went round the -apartment,-- - -“Nor I”--“Nor I”--“He is guiltless.” - -A shrill and prolonged shriek, echoing from a nook of the Red Chamber -near the death-couch, sent a sudden thrill through the group assembled -in this terrible mystery. - -Every form wheeled suddenly round, every eye was fixed in the direction -from whence issued the shriek, and the aged Steward of the Castle was -seen, upholding with one trembling hand the folds of the gorgeous -crimson tapestry, while his aged face grew livid as death, as he pointed -with the other hand to a dark recess. - -“A secret passage--the door cut into the solid wall is flung wide -open--a robe laid across the threshold--a robe of crimson faced with -gold.” - -And as he spoke he flung the hangings yet farther aside, and the bright -sunshine gleamed over the panel of the secret door, flung wide open; the -crimson robe was thrown over the threshold, but no beam lighted up the -gloom of the passage beyond. - -The Lady of Albarone rushed hurriedly forward, she seized the robe, she -held it aloft in the sunbeams, and--_every eye beheld the robe of Adrian -Di Albarone_! - -“Adrian!” shrieked the Countess, “Adrian of Albarone--yonder secret -passage leads to thy sleeping chamber--thy departed sire, myself and -thou, alone were aware of its existence. It has ever been a secret of -our house. Tell me, by yon murdered corse, I implore thee, tell me who -flung this door open, who laid thy robe across the threshold?” - -Adrian passed his hand wildly over his forehead, and with a cry of -horror fell insensible upon the floor. - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRD. - -THE EMBRACE OF A BROTHER. - - -The sun was setting, calmly and solemnly setting, behind a gorgeous pile -of rainbow-hued clouds, magnificent with airy castle and pinnacle, while -the full warmth of his beams shone through the arching window of the Red -Chamber, its casement panels thrown wide open, filling that place of -death with light and splendor. - -In the recess of the lofty casement, with the sunshine falling all -around, and the shadow of her slender figure thrown like a belt of gloom -over the mosaic floor, stood the Ladye Annabel, silent and motionless; -her rounded arms half raised, with the slender hands crossed over her -bosom, her robe of pale blue velvet, with the inner vest of undimmed -white made radiant by the sunbeams; while, swept aside from her -features, the golden hair fell with a floating motion down over her -shoulders, and along the breast of snow. - -And as she stood thus still and immovable, gazing with one unvarying -glance along the courtyard, the sunshine revealed her face of beauty, -every lineament and feature disclosed in the golden light, seeming more -like the face of a dream-spirit, than the countenance of a mortal -maiden. The soul shone from her face. The eyes full, large, and lustrous -with their undimmed blue, dilating and enlarging with one wild glance; -the cheek white as alabaster, yet tinted by the bloom, and swelled with -the fullness of the budding rose; the lips small, and curvingly shaped, -slightly parted, revealing a glimpse of the ivory teeth; the chin, with -its dimple; the brow, with its clear surface, marked by the parted hair, -waving aside like clustered sunbeams--such was the face of the Ladye -Annabel, all vision, all loveliness, and soul. - -“He is bound; yes, bound with the cord and thong! They gather around him -with looks of insult; they place him on the steed; they move--oh, mother -of Heaven!--they move toward the castle gate! And shall I never see him -again--never, never? It is a dream; it is no reality. It is a dream! Was -it a dream, yesterday, when he stood in this recess, his hand clasped in -mine, his eyes calm and eloquent, gazing in mine, while his voice spoke -of the sunset glories of the summer sky?” - -One long, wild glance at the scene in the courtyard, and then veiling -her eyes from the sight, she started wildly from the window. - -“It is a dream,” murmured the Ladye Annabel, as she hurriedly glided -from the room, and the echoes returned her whisper. “It is, it is a -dream!” - -Her footsteps had scarce ceased to echo along the ante-chamber, when -another footstep was heard, and ere a moment passed, Aldarin stood in -the recess of the lofty window of the Red Chamber. His face was agitated -by strange and varying expressions, as with a keen and anxious eye he -glanced over the spears and pennons of along line of men-at-arms, -passing under the raised portcullis of the castle gate. - -The portcullis was lowered with a thundering clang, the spears and -pennons, the gallant steeds and their stalwart riders, were lost to -sight, but presently came bursting into view again, beyond the castle -gate, where the highway to Florence, appearing from amid surrounding -woods, led up a steep and precipitous hill. And there, flashing with -gold and glowing with embroidery, the broad banner of the Duke of -Florence was borne in the van of the cavalcade. Then came four -men-at-arms, in armor of blazing gold; and then, distinguished by his -rich array, rode the Duke, mounted upon a snow-white charger, and behind -him, environed by guards, his arms lashed behind his back, came Lord -Adrian Di Albarone, accused of the most foul and atrocious murder of his -sire. Beside her son, her face closely veiled, and her form bowed low, -the Countess rode; and in the rear, their steeds gaily prancing, their -spears flashing, and their pennons glancing in the sun, came the -men-at-arms in long and gallant array. - -With parted lips and strained eyes did Signior Aldarin watch the -movements of this company. - -As the steed of the last man-at-arms was lost in the shades of the -forest, Aldarin smiled grimly, and, extended his shrivelled hand, -shouted in tones of exultation: - -“One hour ago, I was the stooping scholar,--The _Signior_ Aldarin. -_Now!_” full boldly did he swell that little word; “Now, I am the _Count -Aldarin Di Albarone_, lord of the wide domains of Albarone!” - -He laughed the short, husky laugh which was peculiar to him. - -“Adrian swept from my path--and is he not already swept from my -path?--that brainless idiot, _my liege_ of Florence, swallowed the -charge against that forward boy as greedily as the fish swallows the -tempting bait; the signet and the robe will bring the changeling to the -block, and thus, my only obstacle swept away, I, as next heir, succeed -to the titles and estates of Albarone! And Annabel, my fair daughter! -thy brow shall be decked with a coronet; thou shall reign Duchess of -Florence! Ha--ha!” - -And here, as the wide prospect of ambition opened to his mind’s eye, he -became silent, and, hurriedly pacing the floor, resigned his soul to the -dreams of his excited fancy. - -_Suddenly his visions were interrupted by a deep sigh, that seemed to -proceed from the corse upon the couch._ - -Aldarin started, and for a moment stood still as a statue, his ear -inclined toward the couch, as if intently listening; his lips apart, -and his quivering hands stretched forth as though he would defend -himself from some unreal foe. - -At last, gaining courage, he approached the bed. There, without the -slightest signs of animation, lay the faded form of the gallant warrior; -the eyes closed, the stern expression of the features vanished, and the -whole attitude that of unconscious repose. - -Turning away, Aldarin was chiding himself for his childish terror, when -a deep, sonorous groan met his ear. With a swelling heart he once more -turned, and beheld a sight that caused the cold sweat of intense terror -to ooze from his person, and every nerve to quake with alarm. - -The eyes of the Count were wide open; a slight flush pervaded his -cheeks, and his entire attitude was changed. A voice came from his -pallid lips: - -“Annabel, dearest Annabel! a fearful dream but now possessed my fancy! -Methought I lay dead--dead, Annabel, dead; and that I died ere thy -nuptials were solemnized--thy nuptials, Annabel, and thine Adrian!” - -A fearful expression came over the scholar Aldarin’s features, as though -he was stringing his mind to one great effort. In an instant his -countenance became calm again, and approaching the bedside, he enquired, -in a soft voice, if his dear brother wanted anything? - -The Count answered hurriedly, as if a sudden light burst upon him: - -“Ah! the Virgin save us! good Aldarin, art thou here? Surely, I saw -Adrian and Annabel but a moment since? Surely--” - -“Nay, my brother;” answered Aldarin, “‘twas but mere phantasy. Annabel -is not with us, nor is my Lord Adrian here; but I, dear brother, I am by -your side.” - -Speaking these words in a voice tremulous with affection, Signior -Aldarin passed his left arm around the body of the Count, while the -other enclosed his neck. He clasped him in an ardent embrace, as he -continued: - -“I am with you, dear brother; I will minister to your slightest wish; I, -Aldarin, your own devoted friend.” - -Here he inserted his right hand beneath the long gray locks of the -Count, and clasping his neck, pressed him yet closer to his bosom. - -“Kind Aldarin,” the Count began, but the sentence was cut short by a -piercing cry, and the right hand of Aldarin clutched tighter and tighter -around his brother’s throat. - -“Nay, brother, thou shalt have rest, an’ thou wishest it,” cried Signor -Aldarin. “There, sleep softly, and pleasant dreams attend you!” - -The Count fell heavily upon the bed; his blood-shot eyes protruded from -his blackened face, a livid circle was around his throat, and a thin -line of blood trickled from his mouth. A sigh, heavy, deep, and -prolonged came from his chest, and the murdered man ceased to live. - -“The fiend be thanked!--it is _done_!” - -Having thus spoken, in a voice that came through his clenched teeth, the -murderer looked up and saw--the dogged, rough, yet honest visage of the -stout yeoman peeping from among the curtains on the opposite side of the -bed, his eyes steadily fixed on the corse, and a curious look of inquiry -visible in every feature of his face. - -The Signior drew back, trembling in every limb, and pale as death. It -was a moment ere he recovered his speech, when, assuming a haughty air, -he exclaimed: - -“Slave, what do you here? Is it thus you intrude upon my privacy? Speak, -sir--your excuse!” - -The stout yeoman replied in his usual manners speaking in the Italian, -but with a sharp English accent: - -“Why, most worshipful Signior, you will please to bear in mind that for -twenty long years have I followed my lord, he who now lies cold and -senseless, to the wars. That withered arm have I seen bearing down upon -the foe in the thickest of the fight; that sunken eye have I beheld -glance with the stern look of command. By his side have I fought and -bled; for him did I leave my own native land--merrie, merrie -England,--and I will say, a more generous, true-hearted, and valiant -knight, never wore spurs, or broke a lance, than my lord, the noble -Count Julian Di Albarone.” - -The yeoman passed the sleeve of his blue doublet across his eyes. - -“Well sirrah,” cried the Signior, “to what tends all this?” - -“Marry, to this does it tend: that wishing to behold that noble face yet -once more, I stole silently to this chamber, thinking to be a little -while alone with my brave lord. I did not discover your presence, till I -looked through the curtains and saw--” - -The stout Englishman suddenly stopped; there was a curious twitch in his -left eye, and a grim smile upon his lip. - -“Saw what, sirrah?” hurriedly asked the scholar Aldarin. - -“Marry, I saw thee, worshipful Signior, in the act of embracing the -Count; and such a warm, kind, brotherly embrace as it was! By St. -Withold! it did me more good than a hundred of Father Antonio’s -homilies--by my faith, it did!” - -The thin visage of Aldarin became white as snow and red as crimson by -turns. Making an effort to conceal his agitation, he replied: - -“Well, well, Robin, thou art a good fellow after all, though, to be -sure, thy manners are somewhat rough. I tell thee, brave yeoman, I have -long had it in my mind to advance thy condition. Follow me to the Round -Room, good Robin, where I will speak further to thee of this matter.” - -“_The Round Room!_” murmured Robin, as he followed the scholar Aldarin -from the Red Chamber. “Ha! ’tis the secret chamber o’ th’ scholar; many, -many have been seen entering its confines--never a single man has been -seen emerging from its narrow door, save the scholar Aldarin! I’ll -beware the serpent’s pangs! I’ll drink no goblets o’ wine, touch no food -or dainty viands while in this Round Room; or else, by St. Withold, -Rough Robin’s place may be vacant in the hall, forever and a day!” - -With these thoughts traversing his mind, the yeoman followed the scholar -over the floor of the ante-chamber, and as they entered the confines of -a gloomy corridor, a spectacle was visible, which, to say the least, was -marked by curious and singular features. - -Imagine the solemn scholar striding slowly along the corridor with -measured and gliding footsteps, while behind him walks Robin the Rough, -describing various eccentric figures in the air with his clenched hands; -now brandishing them above the Signior’s head, now exhibiting a -remarkable display of muscular vigor at the very back of Aldarin; and -again, making a pass with all his strength apparently at the body of the -alchymist, but in reality at the intangible atmosphere. These -demonstrations did not appear to give the stout yeoman much pain, for -his cheeks were very much agitated, and from his eyes were rolling -thick, large tears of laughter. - -The corridor terminated in a long, dark gallery hung with pictures -colored by age, and framed in massive oak. Traversing this gallery, they -ascended a staircase of stone, and passing along another corridor, -terminated by a winding staircase. This, the scholar and the yeoman -descended, and then came another gallery, another ascending stairway, -and then various labyrinthine passages traversed, Rough Robin at last -found himself standing side by side with Aldarin, in front of the dark -panels of the narrow door leading into the Round Room. - -This room was scarce ever visited by any living being in the castle save -Aldarin, and strange legends concerning its mysterious secrets were -current among the servitors of Albarone. - -Many had been seen entering its confines with the Signior, but never was -any one, save Aldarin, seen to emerge from its gloomy door. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTH. - -THE DEATH-TRAP. - - -ROBIN THE ROUGH IS ADVANCED TO HONOR, WHILE THE SKELETON-GOD LAUGHS OVER -HIS SHOULDER. - - -The door flew suddenly open, and Robin, gazing around, found himself -standing in a small room, circular in form, with an arched ceiling, and -floor of stone. The walls were lined with shelves, piled with massive -books, clasped by fastenings of silver and of gold, thrown among scrolls -of parchment, richly illuminated, and emblazoned with strange figures, -relieving pictures of dark and hidden meaning. - -The apartment having no casement, light was supplied by a small lamp of -curious workmanship, depending from the arched ceiling, and diffusing -its intense and radiant beams all around the place, making the lonely -room as bright as though the noonday sun shone over its shelves and -walls. - -Around the chamber were scattered strange instruments pertaining to the -science of astrology or mysteries of alchemy; here richly emblazoned -parchments, inscribed with curious characters, glittered in the light; -and yonder, the ghastly skull, with its hideous grin of mockery, was -strown along the floor, mingled with the bones of the human skeleton, -the last fragments of the tenement of the living soul. - -While Robin’s eyes distended in wonder, as he hastily glanced around the -room, he stumbled and fell against an object reared in the centre of the -floor. - -“The foul fiend take thee, slave!” shouted Aldarin, as, with his -extended arms, he stayed the soldier in his fall. “Wouldst thou destroy -the labor of thrice seven long years? Wouldst thou destroy a Mighty -Thought? Stand aside from the altar, and come not near it again, or by -the body of * * *, I will brain thee with this dagger! Thou slave!” he -shrieked, in tones of wild indignation, as his blazing eye was fixed -upon the face of the yeoman, who stood confused and silent, “for what -dost thou suppose I have watched yon beechen flame, by day and night, -for twenty-one long years? For what have I wasted the youth and the -vigor of my days before yon altar? Was it to have my labor, the mighty -thought, for which I have dared what mortal never dared before, -destroyed by thy clumsy carcass? Dost think so, slave?” - -Rough Robin murmured an excuse for his awkwardness, and, while the -Signior’s features subsided into their usual deep and solemn expression, -he again gazed around the room. - -From the centre of the oaken floor arose a small altar, built of -snow-white marble, with a light blue flame arising from a vessel of gold -on its surface: the fire sweeping along the sides of an alembic, -suspended over the altar by four chains, attached to as many rods of -gold placed at each corner of the structure. - -There was something so strange and solemn in the entire aspect of the -place--the light blue flame arising in tongues of fire from the vessel -of gold on the snow-white altar, burning for ever beneath the hanging -alembic, the chains and rods of gold, the pure and undimmed white of the -marble, varied by no sculpturing or ornament, combined with the utter -stillness and solitude of the room--that Robin felt awed, he scarce knew -why; and dark forebodings crept like shadows over his brain. - -The scholar seated himself upon a small stool placed near the other, and -pointing to another, in a mild voice, desired Robin to follow his -example. The yeoman hesitated. - -“It is not meet for a poor yeoman o’ th’ Guard to rest himself in the -presence of so great a scholar.” - -“Nay, nay, good Robin, rest thyself. I was angered with thee a moment -hence, but now it is all past. Seat thyself, brave yeoman.” - -The soldier complied, and rested his stout person upon a stool of oak, -placed some six feet from the spot where sat the Signior Aldarin. Robin -had but time to note a singular circumstance, ere the scholar spoke. -_The stool upon which the stout yeoman sat, was firmly jointed in a -large slab of red stone, which, spreading before him for the space of -some six feet, was curiously fixed in the planks of the oaken floor._ - -With a mild and smiling look, the scholar spoke:-- - -“Robin, thou hast been a true and faithful vassal to my late brother. -Thou didst right carefully attend Lord Julian, when forced by the -incurable wound of a poisoned arrow, some three months since, he -returned from Palestine, leaving Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Long-sword, at the -head of his men-at-arms. Robin, I have long designed to testify the good -opinion in which I hold thee by some substantial gift--thou shall be -Seneschal of this mighty castle of Albarone!” - -“Marry, good Signior--” - -“How, sir!--dost thou address _me_ as Signior? Vassal, I am the Lord of -Albarone!” - -“But Adrian--” - -“What sayest thou of Adrian? A murderer--a parricide--his death is -certain. The Duke of Florence hath sworn it.” - -“Well, my Lord Count, then, an’ it pleases you better, I was about to -say that if I had my choice I would sooner be made an esquire.” - -“This thou shalt be:--first promise to serve me faithfully in all that I -shall command.” - -“Well, as far as an honest man may, so far do I promise.” - -The scholar Aldarin mused a moment and then said carelessly--“Was it not -an exceeding wicked deed, this murder of my good brother?” - -“Aye, marry was it,” replied Robin, looking fixedly at Aldarin--“and the -fiend of hell, himself, could not have done a more damned, or a more -accursed thing.” - -“True good Robin,--’twas a horrid murder. What could have prompted -Adrian to raise his hand against his father, eh? good Robin?” - -The Yeoman did not reply. He cast his eyes to the floor and confusedly -fingered his cap. - -The Count Aldarin--so must I style him--reached a folded parchment from -a writing desk and then asked-- - -“Why dost thou not speak, good Robin? What art thinking of?” - -“Why, heaven save your _lordship_,” said Robin, speaking in a whisper, -and gazing full in Aldarin’s face, “_I was just wondering whether the -murderer embraced the Count ere he strangled him?_” - -Aldarin started aside--his features were writhen into a fearful -contortion, and his whole frame shook like a leaf of the aspen tree. -Again he turned his visage, it was calm, as the face of innocence, and a -smile was on his pinched lip. - -“Receive thy warrant as Seneschal of the Castle of Albarone,” said -Aldarin, as he held forth the parchment--“nay, kneel not, good Robin; -keep thy seat.” - -Robin held forth his hand to reach the parchment--his fingers touched -it, when Aldarin stamped his foot upon the floor, and the slab of red -stone fell quick as lightning beneath the yeoman. A deep and dark well -was discovered. In an instant the stool affixed to the stone was empty, -and far below, in the depths of the pit the echo of the falling slab, -sunk with a sound like the rushing of the winter wind through the -corridors of a deserted mansion. - -A face, with eyes rolling ghastly, with the lower jaw sunken and the -tongue protruding from the mouth, appeared above the side of the cavity, -at the very feet of Aldarin, and a muscular hand convulsively clutched -the oaken plank, while the body of the stout Yeoman, was seen through -the darkness of the pit, as he clung with the grasp of despair, to the -floor of the room. - -“Devil--” shouted the desperate soldier, as he made a convulsive effort -to lighten the grasp of his hand on the smooth plank. “I’ll foil thee -yet. ’Tis not the fate of an honest man to die thus! My doom--” - -“Is DEATH!” shrieked the scholar, and drawing the glittering dagger from -his robe, he smote the fingers of the Yeoman, with its unerring steel. -The joints of the hand were severed. - -The grasp of the soldier failed, he gave one dying look, and then far, -far down in the pit, a whizzing noise like the sound of a falling body -was heard, and as it grew fainter and fainter did Aldarin stand in -attitude of listening, gazing down into the shadow void, his arms -outstretched, his eyes wildly glaring, his lips apart, and every -lineament of his face expressive of triumph, mingled with hate and -scorn. - -A wild, maniac laugh came from the murder’s lips: - -“Ha--ha--ha! caitiff and slave! Thou hast met thy fate. The scholar hath -enemies, but--ha--ha!--they all _disappear_!” - -Again he cast his eyes into the well. All was still as death. A single -look into the dark cavity, and, with his bitter smile, Aldarin pictured -the mangled corse of the yeoman, lying in bloody fragments, strewn over -the vaults of the castle, amid the corses of the unburied dead. - -He stamped his foot on the floor, and the red slab, bearing the empty -stool, slowly arose on its hinges, and was again fixed in the oaken -planks. - -“Silent forever, prying fool! My secret is safe. Thou shalt no more -prate of a certain _warm_ embrace. Nay, nay; now for my schemes. I must -send on to Florence fresh proofs of Adrian’s guilt: witnesses, and so -on, and so on. That matter arranged, then comes the marriage of Annabel -and the Duke. Ha--ha! Let me think.” - -Here he fell into a musing fit, and having newly fed the beechen flame -upon the altar of marble, he approached a point of the Round Room, where -a small knob of iron projected from the oaken floor. - -Stamping upon the knob, a division of the shelving receded, and a -portion of the wall, leaving an open space, while a passage was -disclosed into a secret chamber, beyond the Round Room. - -A door of dark and solid wood, painted in imitation of the walls of the -Round Room, had been made in an aperture of the wall, with shelving -placed on its panels, and every sign or mark of the existence of such a -door, carefully and effectually erased. It bore a complete resemblance -to the other parts of the walls, and no one, save Aldarin, could have -dreamed of its existence. The small knob in the oaken floor, -communicated with a spring, and the secret door rolled into the -adjoining room on grooves fixed in the floor. - -Aldarin stepped through the secret passage, the door rolled back, and -the Round Room was left to the silent flame and the grinning skull. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIFTH. - -THE CHAMBER OF MYSTERIES. - - - FEAR * * * AND GIVE GLORY TO HIM, FOR THE HOUR OF HIS JUDGMENT IS - COME--THE SMOKE OF THEIR TORMENT ASCENDETH UP FOR EVER AND - EVER.--_The Book._ - - -A chamber with a low, dark ceiling, supported by massive rafters of oak; -floor and wall of dark stone, unrelieved by wainscot or plaster--bare, -rugged and destitute--in form, an oblong square, narrow in width, and -extensive in length, with the impression of a coffin-like gloom and -confinement, resting upon each dark stone and rugged rafter, while the -air was insupportable with the scent of decaying mortality. - -In the centre arose a rough table of massive oak, with a smoking light, -burning in a vessel of iron, placed at each corner, flinging a dreary -radiance through the darkness of the chamber. - -The light threw its red and murky beams over the fearful burden of the -table. It was piled with the unsightly forms of the dead. There were -lifeless trunks, all hewn and hacked; there were discolored faces, green -with decay; with the eyes scooped from the sockets, the livid skin -dropping from the forehead, the jaw torn from its socket, and the brain, -once the resting place of the mighty soul, protruding in all its -discoloration and corruption over the bared brow; there were arms and -limbs torn from the body, some yet wearing the hue of life, others -rendered hideous and disgusting by the revel of the worm; there, in that -lone room were piled up all these ghastly remains of humanity, these -fearful mockeries of life, there rotting relics of what had once -enthroned the GIANT SOUL. - -The form of a muscular man, with chest of iron, and arms of brass, lay -on the centre of the table, side by side with the figure of a fragile -woman. The scanty locks of gray hair surmounted the half peeled forehead -of the warrior, while the copious tresses of the woman drooped over the -white cheek, the alabaster neck, and fell twining over the bosom, yet -untainted by decay. - -“Here,” cried Aldarin, with dilating eye--“Here, for twenty-one long -years have I toiled. The sun shone over the beauty of spring, the luxury -of summer, and yet I beheld him not. Autumn came with its decay, and -winter with its cold, and yet Aldarin went not forth. Toil, toil, toil, -while youth died in my veins, and age came wrinkling over my brow; toil, -toil, toil, unceasing and eternal toil. - -“Julian went to war, his plume waved over the ranks of battle. Aldarin -toiled on, over the carcasses of the dead. Others have made friends -among the living, and won honor from the great--it was mine to build a -home amid the corses of the unburied dead, and to wring knowledge, wild -and terrible, it is true, yet mighty knowledge, from the grasp of death. -Toil, toil, toil, but not forever. It will come at last--the glorious -secret. - -“A few more weary days, a few more dreary nights, and the corse will -speak, the alembic will give fort was! h the secret. The future speaks -two words that fill my heart with fire--_unbounded wealth_--IMMORTAL -LIFE!” - -He looked around with a blazing eye and extended arm--“They rise before -me, the host of victims--ghastly with the dead hue, gory with blood they -rise, they raise their hands, and shriek my name? And yet, it was to be, -it was to be, and _it was_! And _he_, the last, the most dread and -fearful sacrifice--oh, FIEND, wring not my heart with throes of -intolerable torture nor point to yon wan and pallid form! I tell thee -when the last secret shall have been wrung from the lips of Death, then, -then, _he_, aye, _he_ may, may----” - -He paused, he drooped his head low on his breast, a scarcely audible -murmur broke from his lips. Two phrases of doubtful purport might alone -be heard---- - -“Live again--” and then the murmur--“mighty secret----from _his_ -body--” - -Aldarin turned from his dread and mystic reveries, he seized the -scalpel, he commenced the work of knowledge, among the carcasses of the -dead. Long he labored, and eagerly he toiled, but at last, as the solemn -hours of the night wore on, he slept and dreamed a dream. Prostrate -among the bodies of the dead, his arms flung carelessly on either side -over the torn and mangled faces, Aldarin slept and dreamed. - -And this was the DREAM OF ALDARIN THE FRATRICIDE. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SIXTH. - -THE DREAM OF THE DAMNED. - - -He stood upon a lonely isle. His feet were tortured by the sensation of -burning, he looked beneath in wonder, and discovered that he stood upon -a rock of fire. - -He looked around--he beheld an ocean of fire; as far as eye could see, -nothing met his vision but the waves of crimson flame, undulating to and -fro, with a gentle, yet solemn motion. - -Had the waves arisen around him, in giant billows, or swept above in -mountains of liquid flame, the dreamer would have rejoiced, his spirit -would have joined in the tumult, his soul become the incarnation of the -storm. - -But that strange calmness of the waves, that quiet undulation, awed him, -chilled him to the heart. He looked again over the shoreless sea, and -saw with straining eyes a sight of woe--unutterable woe. - -From the surface of every wave, from the waves breaking in spiral flames -at his feet--afar and near, on every side--from the surface of every -wave was thrust a discolored face, with burning eyes, that gleamed with -a strange life, while the lips were colorless, the cheeks livid, and the -brow green with decay. As the Dreamer looked, low, faint murmurs, -unutterable sighs and sobs, broke on the air, and a hollow whisper, more -like the echo of a thought than a sound, came to his ear--THESE ARE THE -FACES OF THE DAMNED--every face you see, is the face of a -_Lost-soul_--THESE ARE THE FACES OF THE DAMNED. - -Aldarin turned from side to side with a horror he had never felt before. -All around seemed turning to fire, fire in every shape and form, fire -intangible and fire incarnate. Above, no sky with Sun of Glory gave -light to that ocean of flame, with the faces of the damned, thrust from -every billow. A roof of brass, vast and awful, and magnificent, arched -over the waves of fire; it was heated to a burning heat, and the eye of -Aldarin seemed turning to flame, as he looked upon the brazen sky. - -The horizon of this fearful sky, was concealed by great clouds, rolling -slowly on, and on, and on, over the waves of fire, far, far, from the -isle where stood Aldarin. - -And while the hollow murmur broke over the scene, and the whispering of -subdued voices, and the sobs of soft voiced women, shrieking that -unutterable wail, Aldarin felt the very air burn into his flesh hotter, -and more torturing than the air of the simoon, he felt the rock beneath -him turning molted fire, his feet were crumbling into fragments, while -agony and intense pain, quivered along his veins, and the flame lapped -up his blood. He burned, and yet--he burned not. - -The air penetrated into his flesh, entered the pores, burning along his -veins; he felt the fire at his very heart; he drank in the flame with -every breath, and yet--he burned not. - -No sooner did his feet crumble with the agonizing influence of the fire, -than another portion of his frame, seemed renewing its life, his heart -became young, and his brain flowed with healthy blood. - -Again his feet renewed their flesh, and then, with a hollow voice, he -shrieked, mingling in that unutterable wail of the damned, “I burn, I -burn, my heart is on fire, my brain is turned to flame, and yet I am not -consumed.” - -A sudden change in the shape of the islet on which he stood, attracted -his attention. At first wide and extensive in form, it was now narrow -and contracted. Every moment it grew smaller, and yet smaller, and the -waves of fire came rolling wave after wave over its surface. Aldarin -started with a new and strange horror. Terrible it was to stand on the -rock of fire, his feet consuming, his brain on fire, his heart a flame; -air, sky and ocean, all burning into his very soul, terrible, most -terrible, but those hollow murmurs, those fearful whispers of the damned -came breaking on his ear, speaking of mysteries, yet more terrible, in -the VAST BEYOND. - -The wretched man clung to the rock. Oh! God, how fearful was the first -touch of the waves of molten flame; how the liquid fire ate into his -flesh and corrupted his blood, as the spiral flames cresting, each wave -came hissing and curling round his limbs! - -The waves rose higher and higher; the bodies of the lost, offensive with -decay, the loathsome, and worm-eaten came floating around Aldarin. He -raised his hands, he pushed the ghastly carcasses aside, but still they -came floating on, and on, throwing their crumbling arms around his neck -and fixing their livid lips upon his burning cheek, in the kiss of the -damned. - -They hailed him--brother--with a hollow welcome, and as innumerable -voices whispered forth the sound of awful welcome, Aldarin missed his -footing on the rock, he felt his form changing with decay, he raised his -hands in the effort to keep on the surface of the waves, and saw his -fingers with the flesh dropping from the bones; he floated on the -surface of the boundless sea, he became one of the damned. - -Forever and forever lost. - -They were floating on and on, the boundless legion of the lost, and with -them floated Aldarin. - -A strange distant sound burst on the ear, he heard it grow louder and -louder, now it was like the roaring of a mighty ocean, now it was like -the hissing of a thousand furnaces. - -Floating on the waves of fire, crowded by legion of the lost, Aldarin -turned with a feeling of intense awe, and murmured the question--“What -means yon sound of terror--yon murmur of fear?” - -“We are floating on and on, toward the Cataract of Hell--” was the -hoarse murmur of the living corse floating by his side, and a million -tongues, speaking from livid lips returned the echo--“On and on toward -the Cataract of Hell!” - -Aldarin was carried on without the power of resistance, with no object -to stay his career, on and on, every moment nearing the fearful -Cataract, whose omnipresent thunder now deafened his ears, and fell upon -his very brain, like the awful echo of an unrelenting Judgment. - -Then came a pause of strange unconsciousness, from which Aldarin -presently awoke; and opening his eyes, gazed around. - -He hung on the verge of a rock, a rock of melting bitumen, that burned -his hands to masses of crisped and blackened flesh as he hung. The rock -flung its projecting form over a gulf, to which the cataracts of earth -might compare, as the rivulet to the vast ocean. - -It seemed to Aldarin as though the universe, with all the boundless -fields of space, was comprised in the sweep of that awful cataract with -its rocks of bitumen and red-hot ore extending for miles and miles -innumerable, on either side, with the waves of fire--each wave bearing -its awful burden of a damned soul--surging and foaming over the edge of -the precipice, while a hissing and crackling sound, like the noise of -ten thousand forests, ravaged by flame, startled the very air of hell, -and mingled with the shrieks of the ******. - -Aldarin looked below. - -God of Heaven, what a sight! A gulf, like the space occupied by a -thousand worlds--deep, vast, immense, and yet perceptible to the -eye--sunk beneath him, with its surface of fiery waves, all convulsed -and foaming with innumerable whirlpools, all crimsoned by bubbles of -flame, each whirlpool swallowing the millions of the lost, each bubble -bearing on its surface the face of a soul, damned and damned forever. -Forever and forever. - -And as the lost were borne on by the waves and swallowed by the -whirlpools, they raised their hands and cast their burning eyes to the -brazen sky, and shrieked, with low and muttering voices, the eternal -death-wail of the lost. - -Over the cataract, shrieking and wailing, were precipitated the millions -and ten thousand millions of living-dead; each one swelling that -unutterable murmur as he fell, each soul yelling with a more intense -horror as it sank into night and all around, innumerable echoes bursting -from the rocks or bitumen and melting ore breaking from the very air -gave back the shriek, the wail and murmur of the lost. Forever and -forever lost. - -And over this scene, awful and vast, towered a figure of ebony -darkness; his blackened brow concealed in the clouds, his extended arms -grasping the infinitude of the cataract, while his feet rested upon -islands of bitumen far in the gulf below. - -The eyes of the figure were fixed upon Aldarin, as he clung with the -nervous grasp of despair, to the rock of melting bitumen, and their gaze -curdled his heated blood. - -Every moment he was losing his grasp, sliding and sliding from the rock, -now his feet were loosened and hung dangling over the gulf. - -There was no hope for him, he must fall--fall, and fall forever. - -At this moment, when his burning hands clung to the rock, when his feet -were dangling in the air, when his blood-shot eyes, protruding from -their sockets, glared ghastily above, a new wonder attracted the gaze of -Aldarin. - -A stairway, built of white marble, wide, roomy, and secure, seemed to -spring from the very rock to which he clung, and winding up from the -cataract, encircled by white and rainbow-hued clouds, was lost in the -distance, far, far above. - -Aldarin beheld two figures slowly descending the stairway from the -distance--the figure of a warrior and the form of a dark-eyed woman. - -As they drew near and nearer, he felt a strange feeling of awe gathering -round his heart. - -He knew the figures, he knew them well. - -Her face of beauty wore a smile, her dark eyes were brilliant as ever, -brilliant as when first he wooed and won her in the wilds of Palestine. -Yet there was blood upon her vestments near the heart; and _his_ lip was -spotted with one drop of thick red blood. - -It was most fearful to see them thus calmly approach; it was most -terrible to recognize every line of their features, every part of their -vestments. - -“This,” muttered Aldarin, “this indeed, is Hell.--And yet he must call -for aid, and call to the warrior and the woman. How the thought writhed -like a serpent round his very heart!” - -He was sliding from the rock, slowly, yet certainly sliding. Another -moment and he would plunge below. There was but one hope. He might, by a -desperate effort, drag his carcass along the pointed rock: by a single -extension of his arm, his hand would grasp the lowest step of the -stairway. - -He prepared himself for the effort, his feet hung dangling below, it is -true, and his body was gradually slipping, but he gathered all the -strength of his living corse for that single effort. - -Slowly he passed his hand along the rock of bitumen, clutching the -red-hot masses of ore in the action, and with his heart all aflame, he -supported his trembling carcass with the other hand, and passed the -extended hand yet farther along the rock. - -It wanted but a single inch, a little inch, and his hand would grasp the -marble of the stairway. And, yet that inch he could not compass with the -hand so nervously outstretched, all his strength had been expended in -the effort, and there he hung trembling on the verge of the abyss, when -had he but the additional vigor of a mere child, he might grasp the -stairway--he might be saved. - -Another and a desperate effort! His fingers touched the carved -marble-work of the stair-way, but his strength was gone--he could not -hold it in his grasp. - -With an eye of horrible intensity he looked above him, ere he made the -last effort. The figures stood before him on the second step of the -stairway. The woman, beautiful and bright-eyed, smiled, and the stern -warrior shared her smile. - -“Thou, thou wilt save me Ilmerine--my wife, my love, thou -wilt--drag--drag--my hand to thee, and I can reach the staircase.” - -She stooped, the beautiful woman, she reached forth a fair and lily -hand, she grasped the blackened fingers of Aldarin. - -“Thanks, beautiful Ilmerine. I have wronged thee, but--the SECRET--a -little nearer--drag--drag my hand--a moment--and I will grasp the -staircase--I will be saved.” - -She placed his fingers round a projecting ornament of the staircase, his -grasp was tight and desperate. - -“Ascend!” she cried in a sweet and soft-toned voice. - -“Julian--oh, Julian--grasp this hand--aid me, oh Julian my brother!” - -The figure of the Warrior slowly stooped and seized the other hand, and -drawing it towards the staircase, wound the fingers round another piece -of the carved work of the staircase. - -“Ascend, Aldarin, brother of mine, ascend!” cried his deep toned and -awful voice. - -“Ascend, brother of mine, I would, but my strength fails--seize me, by -the body, and drag me from this rock of terror--oh, seize me.” - -The Warrior seized Aldarin by the shoulder, and dragged him slowly along -the rock, but the flesh he clenched, crumbled in his grasp. Aldarin -again trembled over the verge of the abyss--the blow of a single straw, -might suffice to hurl him into the world below. - -“Julian my brother. Ilmerine my wife, save me--oh, save me!” - -The woman, dark-haired and beautiful, stooped, she slowly unwound the -fingers of Aldarin from the ornament of the staircase. And as she -unwound finger after finger, she looked upon his horror-stricken face -and smiled, and pointed to the red-wound near her heart. He returned her -smile with a ghastly grimace, he looked to the Warrior, and tightened -the grasp of his other hand. - -“Thou Julian, wilt save me--thou wilt not unwind my fingers, thou wilt -hurl this beautiful demon aside.” - -“Aldarin my brother!” said the Figure in a voice of awe, as kneeling on -the lowest step of the staircase, he cast the glance of his full and -burning eyes upon the livid visage of Aldarin, while for a -moment he wound the folds of his robe yet closer around his -warrior-form.--“Aldarin, my brother, I will save thee.” - -He smiled--Aldarin returned his smile. - -“Reach me thy hand, Julian, thy hand, or I perish.” - -The Warrior slowly reached forth his hand, from beneath the folds of his -cloak, he held it before the face of Aldarin, and the eyes of the doomed -man saw that the fingers clenched a Goblet of Gold, that shone and -glimmered thro’ the air, like a beacon-fire of hell. - -“Oh--FIEND--THE DEATH-BOWL!” - -As these words shrieked from Aldarin’s livid lips, he drew back from the -maddening sight, with horror, he missed his hold, he slid from the -rock--HE FELL. - - * * * * * - -A thousand fires burned before his eyes, ten thousand horrid sounds fell -on his very brain, serpents loathsome and noxious crawled thro’ his -hair, all around, above and beneath was fire, waves of flame eating into -his soul, sky of brass, burning his eyes from their sockets, all was -fire and horror and death, and--still he fell. - -And a hoarse hollow voice, rising above the murmurs of the damned, spoke -forth the words--“_Forever and Forever_--” and all hell gave back the -echo--“EVER, EVER, EVER!” - -Still he fell! The whirlpool sucked him within its circles of flame, -around and around he dashed, with the bodies of the living dead floating -over him, with ghastly faces, upturned to his vision, with foul arms, -clenching him in a loathsome embrace, around and around he dashed, -joining in the low, deep murmur of the damned, and his heart gave back -the murmur. This, This, is hell! - - * * * * * - -Suddenly all was dark. Aldarin heard no sound, no murmur of the lost. -All was dark, all was still. He touched his brow, and was amazed to find -it untortured by flame. Yet big beaded drops of sweat stood from his -forehead, his frame was chilled, a feeling of unutterable AWE was upon -him, he feared to stir. He had been dreaming. His dream was past, his -consciousness gradually returned, he found himself reclining among the -foul remnants of decay, amid the carcasses of the dead. - -He drooped his head low on his bosom, his face rested on his knees, his -arms were folded across his eyes, and there in that lone chamber, while -the silent hours of the night wore on, with his own weird soul, communed -ALDARIN THE FRATRICIDE. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. - -THE CELL OF THE DOOMED. - - -THE DOOMSMAN. - -“He dies at daybreak--ha, ha, ha--he dies by the wheel.” - -And as he laughed, the man-at-arms, Hugo, let fall the end of his pike -upon the dark pavement, and the sound echoed along the gloom of the -gallery, like thunder, every arch repeating the echo, and every nook and -corner of the obscure passage taking up the sound, until, an indistinct -murmur swelled from all sides, and the voices of the Invisible seemed -whispering from the old and blood-stained walls. - -“He dies at daybreak! Right, Hugo--the Goblet and the Ring, sent him to -the doomsman!” - -“And I--I--the Doomsman will have his blood! How looked he, good -Balvardo, when the sentence of the Duke rang thro’ the hall--“Death, -Death to the Parricide?” Quailed he or begged for mercy!” - -“Quail? ‘Slife I’ve seen the eye of the dying war-horse, when the -poisoned arrow was in his heart, and the death-cry of his master in his -ears, but the mad glare of his eye never thrilled me, like the deep -glance of this--murderer! Blood of the Turk, his eye burned like a -coal!” - -“Tell me, tell me, how was the murder fixed upon him? Who laid it to his -hands?” - -“Blood o’ th’ Turk! Must thou know everything. Then go ask the gossips, -at the corners of the streets, and hear them tell in frightened murmurs, -how the Poisoned Bowl was found on the beaufet, how the Signet-Ring was -found in the bowl, how the Robe was thrown over the secret threshold, -and--ha, ha, how one Balvardo swore to certain words uttered by -the--Parricide, wishes for the old lord’s death, hopes of hot-brained -youth, and mysterious whispers about that Ring, and--” - -“How one Hugo--ha, ha,--swore to his guilt in like manner. Faith did -I--how I met the young Lord, in the southern corridor about high noon, -how he turned pale when I told him, with every mark of respect, be sure, -that he had forgotten his crimson robe, and--” - -“So ye gave him to the DOOMSMAN?” shrieked the executioner, as his -thick-set hump-backed figure was disclosed in the solitary light, -hanging from the ceiling of the gallery--“So ye gave him--Lord -Adrian--to me, to the pincers and the knife, to the hot lead, and the -wheel of torture! You are brave fellows--ha, ha, he dies at -daybreak--and the Doomsman thanks ye!” - -The two sentinels watching in the Gaol of Florence, besides the gloomy -door of the Doomed Cell, started with a sudden thrill of fear, as they -looked upon the distorted form, and hideous face, of the wretch who -stood laughing and chattering before their eyes. - -Balvardo drew his stout form to its full height, and bent the darkness -of his beetle-brows, upon the deformed Doomsman, and Hugo, clad in armor -of shining steel, like his comrade, started nervously aside, as his -squinting eyes were fixed upon the distorted face, the wide mouth, -opening with a hideous grin, the retreating brow and the large, vacant, -yet flashing eyes, that marked the visage of the Executioner of -Florence. A dress made of coarsest serge, hung rather than fitted around -his deformed figure, while a long-bladed knife, with handle of unshapen -bone, glittered in the belt of dark leather that girdled his body. - -“Sir Doomsman, thou art merry--” growled Balvardo--“Choose other scenes -for thy merry humor--this dark corridor, with shadows of gloom in the -distance, and the flickering light of yon smoking cresset, making the -old walls yet more gloomy, around us, is no place for thy magpie laugh. -No more such sounds of grave-yard merriment or--we quarrel, mark ye.” - -“We quarrel, mark ye!” echoed the sinister-eyed Hugo, gravely dropping -the end of his pike on the pavement. - -“St. Judas! My brave men of mettle are wondrous fiery, this quiet night! -Ha--ha--pardon Sir Balvardo, I meant not to anger ye! Yet dost thou know -that _it_ makes my veins fill with new blood! and my heart warm with a -strange fire.” - -“Thy veins fill with new blood! Ha--ha--ha!--Did’st ever hear of a -withered vine, blackened by flame, bearing ripe grapes, or was ever a -dead toad perfumed by the south wind? Hugo, his heart warms with a -strange fire? Odor o’ pitch and brimstone, what a fancy! Ha--ha--” - -“Nay, nay, Balvardo. There is some life in the Doomsman’s veins. Don’t -doubt it? Just fancy those talons, which he calls fingers, clutched -round thy throat--W-h-e-w!” - -“I say it makes my veins fill with new blood, my heart warm with a -strange fire--this matchless picture! A gallant Lord, with the warm -flush of youth on his cheek, strength in his limbs and fire in his -heart, stretched out upon the wheel--here a hand is corded to the wheel, -and there another, here a foot is bound to the spokes and there another. -He looks like the cross of Saint Andrew--by St. Judas. A merry -fancy--eh! Balvardo? Stretched out upon the wheel, he looks with his -bloodshot eyes to the heavens. See’s he any hope there? Laid on his -back, he casts his last long glance aside over the multitude--the vile -mob. See’s he a face of pity there! Hears he a voice of mercy? -None--none! Earth curses, heaven forsakes, hell yawns! And he is of -noble blood, and on his brow there sits the frown of a lofty line. While -the mob hoot, the victim holds his breath, and I--I the Doomsman -approach!” - -“God’s death--he makes my blood chill!” muttered Hugo, glancing askance -at his comrade, who stood silent biting his compressed lip. - -“He writhes, for the hissing of the cauldron of hot lead falls on his -ear, he feels his flesh creep, for the red hot glare of the blazing iron -with its jagged point blinds his eyes as he gazes! He utters no -moan--but he hears the beating of his own heart. - -“He hears a step--a low and cat-like step--’tis mine, the Doomsman’s -step. The red-hot iron in one hand, the ladle filled with melted lead, -hot and seething lead in the other, nay, start not, nor wince, good -Balvardo--’tis no fancy picture.” - -“The Fiend take thy words--they burn my heart! Hold or by thy master, -the devil, I’ll strike ye to the floor! - -“Hark--hear you that hissing sound? His muscular chest is bared to the -light, these talon-hands guide the red-hot iron over the warm flesh, -with the blood blackening as it oozes from the veins. He writhes--but -utters no groan. Now lay down the iron and the lead; seize the knotted -club, aloft it whirls, it descends! D’ye see the broken arm bone, -protruding from the flesh? Hurl it aloft again, nor heed the sudden -struggle and the quick convulsive agony, never heed them--all writhe and -struggle so. It grows exciting, Balvardo, it warms me, Hugo.” - -Hugo muttered a half-forced syllable, but his parted lips and absent -manner, attested his unwilling interest in the words of the Doomsman, -while Balvardo, clutching his pike, strode hurriedly to and fro along -the floor of stone. - -“Again the Doomsman sweeps the club aloft! Crash--crash--crash, and then -a sound, not a groan, not a groan, but a howl, a howl of agony! - -“Look, Balvardo, look Hugo, you can count the bones as they stick out -from each leg, from each arm, from the wrist and from the shoulder, from -the ancle and the thigh, never mind the blood--it streams in a torrent -from each limb, be sure, but the hot iron dries it up. Your melted lead -is good for cautery--it heals--ha, ha, ha, let me laugh--it heals the -wound, each blow the club had made. The picture grows--it deepens.” - -“Now, by the Heaven above, I see it all--” muttered Balvardo with a -dilating eye, as his manner suddenly changed, and he leaned forward with -unwilling yet absorbing interest. “This is no man, but a devil’s body -with a devil’s soul!” - -“His face is yet unscarred--unmoved save by the wrinkling contortions of -pain. The mob hoot, and hiss, and yell--the play must deepen. Hand me -the iron--red-hot--and hissing--give me the bowl of melted lead, dipped -from the boiling cauldron. The Doomsman’s step again! - -“The victim’s body creeps, and writhes in every sinew, his veins seem -crawling thro’ his carcass, his nerves, turned to things of incarnate -pain, are drawn and stretched to the utmost.” - -“Look well upon the blue heavens, Parricide, for the red-hot iron is -pointed, and--ha, ha, how he howls--it nears your eyes, it glares before -them in their last glance. It must be done, why howl you so? Does it -burn your eyes, tho’ it touches them not? Ha, ha--I meant it thus.” - -“Balvardo, strike him down. He is not human--see his flashing eyes, his -arms thrown wildly aside, with the talon-fingers, grasping the air!” - -“H-i-s-s--it touches the eyeball, the eye is dark forever! H-i-s-s it -licks up the blood, it turns round and round in the socket. Now fill the -hollow socket with the lead, the hissing lead--and, ha, ha, now bring me -another iron pointed like this, and heated to a white heat. Quick, -quick, the victim groans, howls, writhes, and yells! Quick! Ah, ha, let -the iron touch the skin of the eyeball, it shrivels like a burnt leaf, -deeper sink the hissing point, turn it round and round, let it lap up -the gushing blood. Now the lead, the thick and boiling lead, pour it -from the ladle, fill the socket, it hardens, it grows cold--ha, ha, ha, -behold the eyes of lead.” - -“I see them!” faltered Hugo, trembling in his iron armor. - -“And I,” echoed Balvardo--“I see them, oh, horrible, and ghastly, -I--I--see the eyes of lead!” - -“Quick, quick--why lag ye, man? Quick--quick, I say! The knife, the -glittering knife. The Parricide howls not nor groans, but his soul is -trampling on the fragments of clay. Quick, while his carcass is all -palpitation, all alive with torture, all throe, all agony and pulsation, -hand me the knife. I would cut his beating heart from the body.” - -“There, there--the flesh, severed to the bone, parts on either side--the -ribs are bared--a blow with the jagged club, and they are broken. This -hand is thrust within the aperture, I feel the hot blood, I feel his -heart. It beats, it throbs, it writhes in my grasp, like a dying bird -beneath the hunter’s hand.” - -“Quick--the knife again--I hold the heart, cut it from the carcass, -sever each nerve, snap each artery. A deep, low, trembling heave of the -chest; a rattle in the throat. - -“I raise the heart,--still quivering on high, it gleams in the light of -day, and its warm blood-drops fall pattering on the face of the felon.” - -“The mob shout their curses and hoot their oaths of scorn.” - -“Quick, the pincers, the red-hot pincers--but hold--that shaking of the -chest, that last heave of the trunk, that quivering in every splintered -limb, with that quick tremor of the lip, ha, ha, that blanching of the -cheek, with the blood oozing from every pore, that thick gurgling sound -in the throat, he dies, the Felon dies, the Doomsman laughs, and from -the shattered clod, creeps the Spirit of the Parricide!” - -Hugo turned his face to the wall, and covered his eyes with his -upraised hands. Balvardo stood still as death, gazing on the vacant air -with a wild glance, as though he saw the Spirit of the dead. Neither -moved nor said a word. The maniac wildness of the Doomsman awed and -chilled them to the heart. - -“This is the fate, to which ye have given him; this proud Lord now -sleeping in the Chamber of the Doomed--to me, the Doomsman, to the -wheel, to the knotted club, to the knife, the hot iron, and the melted -lead, to the dishonor ye have given him! Ha--ha--ha--these hands itch -for his blood. To-morrow’s rising sun will gleam on the scene, this -merry scene--THE DOOM OF THE POISONER.” - -The Sentinels heard a hurried footstep, followed by a closing door, the -Doomsman had disappeared. They turned with looks of horror, of remorse, -mingled with all the fear and torture that the human soul can feel, -stamped in their faces, while from one to the other broke the whisper-- - -“He sleeps within yon cell--the Doomsman’s cell, till the first glimpse -of the morrow morn shall rouse him to this work--this work of horror and -of--Doom.”[1] - - - - -CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. - -ADRIAN THE DOOMED. - - -The wierd and mystic spirit that rules this chronicle, throws open to -your view the cell of the Doomed. - -It is a sad and gloomy place, where every dark stone has its tale of -blood, every name, rudely scratched on the damp wall, its legend of -despair. - -All is silent; not a whisper, not a sob, not a sound. The silence is so -breathless that you fear the spirits of the condemned, who passed from -this chamber to the Wheel and the Block, may start into life--at the -echo of a footstep from the dark corners of the room, and appal your eye -with their shapes of horror. - -The cresset of iron fixed to the rough wall, threw a dim light over the -form of the Doomed, as seated upon a rough bench, with his head drooped -between his clenched hands, his elbows resting on his knees, his golden -hair faded to a dingy brown, falling over his shoulders and hiding his -countenance, he mused with the secrets of his heart, and called up -before his soul the mighty panorama of despair--the wheel, the block, -the doomsman, and the multitude. - -Adrian the Doomed raised his form from the oaken bench, and paced the -dungeon floor. He was not shackled by manacles or clogged by chains. - -It was the last night of his existence; escape came not within his -thoughts, the walls were built of rock; hundreds of armed sentinels -paced the long galleries of the prison, and a guard of two men-at-arms -watched without the triple-locked and triple-bolted door of the Doomed -chamber. - -Suffering and endurance, anxiety of mind and torture of soul, had -wrought fearful changes in the well knit and muscular form of the Lord -of Albarone. - -His countenance was pale and thin; his lips whitened, his cheeks hollow -and his eyes sunken, while his faded locks of gold fell in tangled -masses over his face and shoulders. His blue eye was sunken, yet it -gleamed brighter than ever, and there was meaning in its quick, fiery -glance. - -“To die on the gibbet, with the taunt _and_ the sneer of the idiot crowd -ringing in my ears, my last look met with the vulgar grimaces and -unmeaning laughter of ten thousand clownish faces--to die on the rack, -each bone splintered by the instruments of ignominious torture, my -scarred and mangled carcass mocking the face of day,--oh, God--is this -the fate of Adrian, heir to the fame, the glory, and the fortunes of -the house of Albarone?” - -Pausing in his hurried walk, he stood for a moment silent and motionless -as the sculptured marble, and then eagerly stretching forth his hands, -cried-- - -“Father--father! noble father! I believe thy holy shade is now hovering -unseen over the form of thy doomed son--by all the hopes men hold of -bliss in an unknown state of being; by the faith which teaches the -belief of a future world, I implore thee, appear and speak to me. Tell -me of that eternity which I am about to face! Tell me of that awful -world which is beyond the present! Father, I implore thee, speak!” - -His imagination, almost excited to phrenzy by long and solitary thought, -with glaring eyes, arms outstretched, and trembling hands, the agitated -boy gazed at a dark corner of the cell, every instant expecting to -behold the dim and ghostly form of his murdered sire slowly arise and -become visible through the misty darkness. No answer came--no form -arose. Adrian drew a dagger from his vest. - -“Father, by the mysterious tie that binds the parent to the son, which -neither time nor space can sever--death or eternity annihilate--I -implore thee--_appear_!” - -The tone in which he spoke was dread and solemn. Again he waited for a -response to his adjuration, but no response came. - -“This, then,” cried Adrian, raising the dagger; “this, then, is the only -resource left to me. Thus do I cheat the mob of their show; thus do I -rescue the name of Albarone from foul dishonor!” - -Tighter he clutched the dagger; his arms was thrown back and his breast -was bared; and, as he thus nerved himself for the final blow, all the -scenes of his life--the hopes of his boyhood--the dreams of his love, -rose up before him like a picture. - -_And like a vast unbounded ocean, overhung with mists, and dark with -clouds, was the idea of the_ DREAD UNKNOWN _to his mind_. - -Amid all the memories of the past; the agonies of the present, or the -anticipations of the future, did the face of the Ladye Annabel come like -a dream to his soul, and the smile upon her lip was like the smile of a -guardian spirit, beaming with hope and love. - -“Oh, God--receive my soul!--Annabel, fare thee-well!” - -The dagger descended, driven home with all the strength of his arm. - -“_Adrian!_” exclaimed a hollow voice, and a strange hand thrown before -the breast of the doomed felon struck his wrist, the instant the -dagger’s point had touched the flesh. - -The weapon flew from the hand of Adrian and fell on the other side of -the cell. - -He turned and beheld the muffled form of a monk, who had entered through -the massive door, which had been unbolted without Adrian’s heeding the -noise of locks and chains, so deep was his abstraction. The ruddy glare -of torches streamed into the cell, and the sentinels who held them, in -their endeavors to shake off their late terror and remorse, gave -utterance to unfeeling and ribald jests. - -“I say, Balvardo,” cried the sinister-eyed soldier, “does not the -springald bear himself right boldly? And yet at break of day he dies!” - -“Marry, Hugo,” returned the other, “he had better thought of making all -these fine speeches ere he gave the--ha--ha--ha!--the physic to the old -man.” - -Reproving the sentinels for their insolence, the muffled monk closed the -door, and approaching Adrian, exclaimed-- - -“My son, prepare thee for thy fate! The shades of night behold thee -erect in the pride of manhood; the light of morn shall see thee -prostrate, bleeding, dead. Thy soul shall stand before the bar of -eternity. Art thou prepared for death, my son?” - -“Father,” Adrian answered; “I have been ever a faithful son of the Holy -Church, but its offices will avail me naught at this hour. Once, for -all, I tell thee I will die without human prayers or human consolation. -On the solemn thought of HIM who gave me being, I alone rely for support -in the hour of a fearful death. Thy errand is a vain one, Sir Priest, if -thou dost hope to gain shrift or confession from me. I would be alone!” - -“Thou art but young to die,” said the monk, in a quiet tone. - -Adrian made no reply. - -“Tell me, young sir,” cried the monk, seizing Adrian by the wrist, -“wouldst thou accept life, though it were passed within the walls of a -convent?” - -“The cowl of the monk was never worn by a descendant of Albarone. I -would pass my days as my fathers have done before me--at the head of -armies and in the din of battle!” - -The monk threw back his cowl and discovered a striking and impressive -face; bearing marks of premature age, induced by blighted hopes and -fearful wrongs. His hair, as black as jet, gathered in short curls -around a high and pallid forehead; his eyebrows arched over dark, -sparkling eyes; his nose was short and Grecian; his lips thin and -expressive, and his chin well rounded and prominent. And as the cowl -fell back, Adrian with a start beheld the _monk of the ante-chamber_. - -“Count Adrian Di Albarone, this morning thou wert tried before the Duke -of Florence, and his peers, for the murder of thy sire. Thou, a -descendant of Albarone, connected with the royal blood of Florence, wert -condemned on the testimony of two of thy father’s vassals, for this most -accursed act. I ask thee, canst thou tell who it is that hath spirited -up these perjured witnesses; and why it is that the Duke of Florence -countenances the accusations!” - -“In the name of God, kind priest, I thank thee for thy belief in my -innocence. The author of this foul wrong, is, I shame to say it, my -uncle, Aldarin, the Scholar. The reason why it is countenanced by the -duke, is--” Adrian paused as if the words stuck in his throat; “is -because he would wed my own fair cousin, the Ladye Annabel.” - -“Ha!” exclaimed the monk, “my suspicions were not false. Let Aldarin -look to his fate; and, as for the duke--” thrusting his hand into his -bosom, he drew from his gown a miniature--it was the miniature of a -beautiful maiden. - -“Behold!” cried the monk, “Adrian Di Albarone, behold this countenance, -where youth, and health, and love, beaming from every feature, mingle -with the deep expression of a mind rich in the treasure of thoughts, -pure and virginal in their beauty. Mark well the forehead, calm and -thoughtful; the ruby lips, parting with a smile; the full cheek blooming -with the rose buds of youth--mark the tracery of the arching neck; the -half-revealed beauty of the virgin bosom. Adrian, this was the maiden of -my heart, the _one_ beloved of my very soul. I was the private secretary -of the duke, he won my confidence--he betrayed it. Guilietta was the -victim; and I sought peace and oblivion within the walls of a convent. I -am now in his favor--he loads me with honors; I accept his gifts--aye, -aye, Albertine, the Monk, takes the gold of the proud duke, that he may -effect the great object of his existence--” - -“And that--” cried Adrian--“that is--” - -The monk spoke not; a smile wreathed his compressed lips, and a glance -sparkled in his eye. _Adrian was answered._ - -In the breast of the man to whom God has given a soul, there also dwells -at all times a demon; and that demon arises into fearful action from the -ruins of betrayed confidence. The monk whispered something in the ear of -the condemned noble, and then, waving his hand, retired. - - - - -CHAPTER THE NINTH. - -THE FELON AND THE DUKE. - - -In a few minutes the door again opened, and the stately form of the -Countess of Albarone entered the traitor’s cell. - -Why need I tell of the warm embrace with which she enclosed her son? Why -tell of her tears that came from her very soul--her deep expressions of -detestation when the name of Aldarin, the scholar, was mentioned? Need I -say that she was firmly assured of her son’s innocence; that she saw -through the mummery of his trial, and the trickery of his foes? Leaving -all this to the fancy of the reader of this chronicle, I pass on with my -history. - -The kind discourse of mother and son was broken off by the clanging of -chains and the drawing of locks. The light of many torches streamed -through the opened door into the cell, and the gaily-bedizened form of -the Duke was discovered. - -With a last farewell, the Countess of Albarone retired; the door was -closed, and Adrian was left alone with the Duke. - -“Well, sir,” exclaimed he; “I have condescended to visit you. Albertine, -my confessor, told me it was due to a branch of the royal blood of -Florence. It were best that you make a short story of what you have to -say. My train wait without, and I am somewhat hurried.” Here he opened -his sleepy eyes, and, curling his bearded lip, tried to assume a look of -dignity. - -Adrian bowed down to the earth. - -“The son of Count Di Albarone,” said he, “feels highly honored by your -condescension.” - -“Well, now, sir, what have you to say?” exclaimed the Duke. “Speak, -ignoble son of an honored sire--inglorious descendant of a noble line. -Speak! What would you say?” - -“Merely this, most gracious Duke,” answered Adrian, as he gazed sternly -into the very eyes of the haughty prince, “merely this, that I have been -doomed to death by thee and thy minions, in a manner that never was -noble doomed before. Without form; on the proof of perjured caitiffs; -without defence, have I been condemned for a crime, at the name of which -hell itself would shudder.” - -The Duke sneered, as he spoke: - -“Surely, I cannot help it, and a brainless boy takes it into his head to -poison his sire.” - -“Pardon me, gracious Duke,” said Adrian, as by a sudden movement he -grasped him by the throat, and at the same time seizing his cloak of -scarlet and gold, he thrust it into his gaping mouth. - -Closer and yet more close he wound his grasp, and, scarce able to -breathe, much less to speak, the Duke of Florence stood without power or -motion. Adrian coolly tripped up his heels, and then placing his knee -upon his breast by a dexterous movement, he tore away the scarlet cloak, -and then cautiously placing one hand over the mouth of the prince, he -gathered some straw with the other, and forced it down his throat. - -Then unbuckling his own belt of rough doe skin, he wound it around the -neck and over the mouth of the Duke, and having fastened it as tightly -as might be, he proceeded to tie his hands behind his back; the cord he -used being nothing less than the chain of knighthood suspended from the -neck of his grace. - -You may be sure this was not accomplished without a struggle. The Duke -writhed and wrestled, but to no purpose. He could not speak, and the -knee of Adrian placed on his breast, laid him silent and motionless. - -And now behold Adrian, arrayed in the blazing cloak of the Duke, which -descending to his knees, sweeps the tops of the fine boots of doe-skin, -ornamented with spurs of gold. On his head is placed the slouching hat -of the prince, surmounted by a group of nodding plumes, and beneath the -folds of the cloak shines the richly embossed sheath of his sword. - -Adrian surveyed his figure with a smile--that smile which arises from -the recklessness of desperation--and then, without heeding the malignant -glances of the Duke, he fixed him against the rough bench upon his -knees, with his face to the wall, in an attitude of prayer and -devotion--He threw his own sombre cloak over the back of his captive; -and then, having slouched the hat over his face, after the manner of the -Duke, he gathered up the cloak of crimson along his chin, and stood -ready to depart. - -He opened the door of the traitor’s cell with a quickened pulse, and in -an instant, found himself standing in the gallery where the muffled -priest waited for the Duke. The soldiers bowed low to the wearer of the -scarlet cloak, and the word was passed along the galleries-- - -“_Make way for the Duke--make way for his grace of Florence._” - -The monk now advanced, and locking the door of the doomed cell, he -affixed to its panel a parchment signed by the Duke of Florence, and -sealed with the seal of state. It declared that the prisoner, Adrian Di -Albarone, was to be seen by no one until the morrow, when he was to -suffer the doom of the law, by the terrors of the wheel. - -This done, the monk fell meekly in the rear of Albarone, who paced along -the gallery, saluted at the door of every cell by the lowered spears of -the sentinels. - -The gallery terminated in a staircase. This Adrian and the monk -ascended, and at the top they found a company of gay cavaliers, who -waited for his grace of Florence. The wearer of the scarlet cloak and -slouching hat was greeted with a low bow. Adrian then traversed another -gallery, and yet another; being all the while followed by the band of -gallant courtiers. - -“Urban,” whispered one of these gallants to another, “methinks our lord -is wondrous silent to-night.” - -“Why, Cesarini,” replied his companion, “it may be that he is weeping -for this young springald, Adrian. Marry, ’tis enough to make an older -man than I am weep.” - -“Hist!” whispered the monk, “our lord would have you observe strict -silence.” - -They had arrived at the lofty arching door of the castle leading into -the court-yard, when Adrian was alarmed by a noise and shouting in the -galleries which he had just traversed. - -“All is lost!” thought Adrian, as his hand caught the hilt of his sword. - -“Fear not,” whispered the monk, “but push boldly onward.” - -They now descended into the court-yard, where a richly-attired page held -a steed ready for his grace. Springing with one bound into the saddle, -Aldarin passed under the raised portcullis, with the monk riding at his -side, and the bridle reins of the courtiers ringing in the rear. - -Thus far all was well. The monk leaned from his saddle, and whispered to -Adrian: - -“One effort more, brave boy. Nerve thyself for the trial at the palace -gate.” - -Traversing one of the most spacious streets of the city of Florence, -they soon arrived before the lofty gate of the palace of the Duke. - -Here a crowd of men-at-arms, blazing in armor of gold, saluted the -supposed Duke with every mark of respect. - -And finally, innumerable dangers past, behold Adrian enter the palace, -traverse innumerable chambers, hung with gorgeous tapestry, lighted by -lamps of silver and of gold, and thronged with nobles and courtiers, who -much wondered to behold their lord pass them by, without one mark of -recognition or sign of respect. - -At last Adrian arrived before folding doors ornamented with exquisite -carving, and having the arms of the Duke emblazoned in glowing colors -upon the panels. - -“Push open the doors, and boldly enter,” whispered the monk to Adrian, -who immediately obeyed his directions. - -The monk then turned to the gallant throng of courtiers, and said: - -“My lords, his grace is unwell. He would dispense with your further -attendance.” The monk retired. - -Never arose such a mingled crowd of exclamations of wonder as then burst -from the lips of the cavaliers. One whispered their lord must certainly -be woad; another that he must have been repulsed in some illicit amour; -and a third seriously gave it as his opinion, that some devil or other -had taken possession of the Duke of Florence. However, being well aware -of the high regard in which the Duke held the monk Albertine, they all -slowly trooped out of the ante-chamber, leaving it to the guards of the -palace, who watched within its confines, as was their wont. - - - - -CHAPTER THE TENTH. - -THE CHAMBER OF THE DULSE. - - -In a lofty chamber, hung with tapestry of purple, embroidered with rare -and pleasant designs, and lighted by lamps of gold, depending from the -ceiling, Adrian and the Monk rested themselves after their arduous -exploit. - -In one corner of the apartment stood a gorgeous bed, with a canopy of -silver and gold hangings, surmounted by a Ducal coronet. Around were -strewn couches of the most inviting softness, and every thing in the -chamber wore an appearance of luxury and ease. - -Adrian reposed on a couch of velvet, and by his side was seated the -monk. Before them was placed a small table, on which stood several -flasks of rich wine, together with more substantial refreshments. - -“Truly, sir monk,” said Adrian, filling a goblet of wine, “I have heard -of many unmannerly acts, but this deed of mine does seem to me to be the -most unmannerly of all. I not only tied the brave duke, lashed him in -the Cell of the Doomed, used his gallant steed, and worshipful name, -but, forsooth! I must also repose me upon his couches, and refresh me -with his wine!” - -And Adrian laughed. - -“Thou art merry, young sir. But an hour since--” - -The monk was interrupted by a gentle knocking under the tapestry. - -Adrian started up, and drew his sword, taking the precaution, however, -to resume the scarlet cloak, and slouching hat. - -The knocking grew louder. The monk removed the tapestry in the part from -whence the sound proceeded, and having pressed a spring, a secret door -in the wainscotting flew open, and a woman of beautiful countenance, and -rich attire was discovered. - -“Thou here, stern priest!” said the damsel, in a sweet voice, “I would -speak with my lord.” - -“Mariamne, thou canst not see him to-night; he hath no time to trifle -with such as thee. His thoughts are given to prayer.” - -The monk closed the door, and, turning to Adrian, said, - -“Another of this miscreant’s victims, Adrian. It was fortunate she did -not see thee closely, for her eye would have detected where hundreds -might look without suspicion. And now let us away; every moment -increases thy danger; the duke may even now have freed himself, and set -his minions in chase.” - -“To fly, I am willing, sir monk; but whither?” - -“_Follow me_,” said the monk, as he lighted a small lamp of silver. He -then removed the tapestry, and discovered a secret door opposite the one -afore-mentioned. This the monk entered, followed by Adrian, and a -stairway of stone, some two feet in width, was revealed; it was cut into -the wall and over-arched, and the distance between the steps and the -arch not more than four feet. - -With great care the monk led the way down the steps of stone, until they -numbered thirty, when they terminated in a narrow platform, which, -indeed, was nothing more than a step somewhat longer than the others. -Here our adventurers descended another stairway, likewise ending in a -platform, and then yet another stairway was terminated by another -platform; and thus they descended stairway after stairway, and crossed -platform after platform, until the increasing coldness and dampness of -the atmosphere, warned them that they had penetrated far below the -surface of the earth. - -Suddenly the stairway ended in a large and gloomy vault, with walls and -floor of the unhewn rock. - -On the side nearest the stairway, a gate of iron was erected between the -points of two large and irregular rocks. - -Through a large crevice which time had worn into this gate, the monk and -Adrian passed into a vault like the former, except that the dim light of -the taper discovered the rough floor strewn with grinning skulls, and -whitened bones. - -Along this dreary place strode the monk, lighting the way, while, at his -back followed Adrian Di Albarone. In about a quarter of an hour the -vault narrowed into a confined passage, along which they crawled on -hands and knees. This terminated in another vault, sloping upwards with -a gradual ascent, which having traversed, our adventurers found -themselves again between two narrowing walls, and finally, all further -progress was stopped by a large stone thrown directly across the path. -Adrian spoke for the first time in half an hour-- - -“And are we to be baulked after all the adventures of this night?” - -The monk answered by pointing to the stone, to which he and his -companion presently laid their shoulders, but their united strength was -insufficient to remove it. - -Again they tried, and again were they unsuccessful; they made a third -attempt, and the stone was precipitated before them. - -Seizing the light, Adrian threw himself into the breach, and discovered -an extensive vault, hedged in by walls built of hewn stone, while the -floor was covered by rows of coffins, with here and there a monument of -marble. Throwing themselves into this place, they picked their way -through the dreary line of coffins, when they came to a wide staircase -which they ascended, until they found it suddenly terminated by the -archway above. - -The monk raised his hand, and drawing a bolt which Adrian had not -perceived, he pushed with all his strength against the archway, and a -trap-door rose above the heads of our adventurers.--Through this passage -the monk ascended, followed by Adrian, who looked around with a gaze of -wonder, and found himself standing in the aisle of the Grand Cathedral -of Florence. - -The moonbeams streaming through the lofty arched windows of stained -glass, threw a dim light upon the high altar with its cross of gold, and -faintly revealed the line of towering pillars which arose to the dome of -the cathedral, as vast and magnificent it extended far above. - -“My son,” cried the monk, “give thanks to God for thy deliverance.” - -And there, in that lone aisle, as the deep toned bell of the cathedral -tolled the third hour of the morning, did Adrian and the monk fall lowly -on the marble pavement, and, prostrating themselves before the sublime -symbol of our most holy faith, give thanks to God, the Virgin, and the -Saints, for their most wonderful escape. - - - - -BOOK THE SECOND. - -THE CAVERN OF ALBARONE. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIRST. - -THE PIT OF DARKNESS. - - -One moment in light, and the next in darkness--down through the gloom of -the pit, plumb as a hurled rock, and swift as an arrow, the betrayed -soldier fell, precipitated by the treachery of the scholar Aldarin. - -The swiftness of his descent took from him all thought or sensation. His -flight was suddenly terminated by a subterranean pool of water, into the -depths of which he sunk for a moment, and then arose to the surface. - -The coldness of the flood, together with an unconquerable stench that -assailed his nostrils on all sides, restored the stout yeoman to -sensation and feeling. - -Spreading his arms instinctively outward, in an attitude of swimming, -Rough Robin could neither guess where he was now, or with whom he had -been conversing a moment since. His thoughts were wandering and -confused, as are the thoughts of a man who dreams when half asleep and -half awake. - -Still swimming onward through the stagnant waters, Robin cast his eyes -overhead, and discerned far, far above, a faintly twinkling light, -somewhat of the size of a dim and distant star. He looked again, and it -was gone. Around, above, and beneath was darkness: darkness which no eye -could pierce, where all was shadow and vacuum--darkness that was almost -tangible with its density. The cheek of the brave soldier was chilled by -air that, heavy with dampness and mist, seemed as dead and stagnant as -the waters in which he swam. - -The light glimmering for an instant far above, brought dimly to his mind -the person of Aldarin, and the incidents of a moment hence. - -And then Robin thought that his fall of terror was only a dream, and, -splashing and plunging in the dark waters, he sought to shake off the -fearful night-mare that stiffened his sinews and froze his blood. - -His extended hand touched a cold and slimy substance, and a small, -bright speck shone like a coal of fire through the darkness. Robin -grasped the slimy substance: it moved, and a noisome reptile wriggled in -his hand. - -Now it was that he became aware that the subterranean waters were filled -by crawling serpents, who writhed around his legs, twined around his -body, and struck his arms and hands at every movement. Their bright eyes -sparkled in the waters, and their hissing broke upon the air, as they -were thus disturbed by the presence of a strange visitor. - -Robin was no coward, neither was he much given to strange fancies; but -a feeling of intense terror chilled the very blood around his heart, as -the thought came over him that he lay in that fearful place, of which so -many legends were told by the vassals of Albarone. The peasantry had -many stories of a vast, unearthly pit sunk far in the depths of the -castle, where the fiends of darkness were wont to hold their revel and -shake the bosom of the earth with the sounds of hellish wassail. Into -this dark pit--so ran the legend--had many a shivering wretch been -precipitated by the lords of Albarone; and here, unpitied and unknown, -had the carcasses of the murdered lain rotting and festering in darkness -and oblivion. - -As the memory of these strange legends crept over the confused mind of -Robin the Rough, he gave utterance to a faint shriek. - -It was returned back to him in a thousand echoes, swelling one after the -other; now like the sound of repeated claps of thunder, and again dying -away fainter and yet fainter, as though many voices were engaged in a -hushed and whispering conversation. - -“Avaunt thee, fiend! avaunt thee!” cried the stout yeoman, as he still -strove to keep himself upon the surface of the water. “Holy Mary, holy -Paul, holy Peter!” continued he, between his struggles, “an’ ye save me -from these pestilent devils, I will--” - -Here the yeoman plunged under the waters, and the sentence was -unfinished. - -“I will, by St. Withold, I will!” cried he, as he rose to the surface, -“place at the altar of the first chapel at which I may arrive after my -deliverance, a wax taper, in honor of all three of you.” - -The yeoman struck his arms boldly through the flood, as he continued: - -“And, an’ ye work out my deliverance, I’ll never ask a boon of ye -again.” - -Here he gave another bold push. - -“I’ll never ask a boon of ye more, but stick like a good christian to my -own native saint--even the good St. Withold!” - -Here, satisfied that his duty to heaven was done, the yeoman strove to -gain some rock, or other object, upon which he might rest his body, much -disjointed as it was by his fall of terror. - -“It pains me--this wounded hand!” he cried--“But Aldarin my friend will -reward me for the pain, some day or other.” - -A murmuring sound now met his ears; it was the sound of running waters. -Onward and onward the bold yeoman dashed, and louder and yet louder grew -the sweet sound of waters in motion. - -In a moment he felt a sudden change, from the dull leaden stillness of a -stagnated pool, to the quick flow and wild careering of waves in motion. -And now he was carried onward with arrowy fleetness, while high above, -the roaring of the subterranean stream was returned in a thousand -echoes. Now tossed against the sharp, rough points of rocks; now plunged -in whirling gullies; now borne on the crests of swelling waves, in -darkness and in terror, bold Robin swept on in his career. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SECOND. - -ROBIN ALONE IN THE EARTH-HIDDEN CAVERN. - - -Thus was he carried onward for the space of a quarter of an hour, when, -bruised, shattered and bleeding, he was thrown by the swell of a wave, -high out of the water upon a mass of rocks. - -Here he lay for a long while, without sense or feeling. When he -recovered from this swoon, it was with difficulty that he made the -attempt to collect his thoughts; all was vague, indistinct, and like a -dream. - -“St. Withold!” at last he whispered, as if communing with himself; “St. -Withold! but this Aldarin is, in good sooth, a most pestilent knave!” - -He paused a moment, and then, as if to redouble his private assurance of -Aldarin’s villany, he resumed: - -“Aye--a pestilent knave--ugh!” - -This last interjection was a suppressed growl, which he forced through -his fixed teeth, as, extending his arms, with the hands clenched, he -made every demonstration of being engaged in shaking some imaginary -Aldarin, with great danger to his victim’s comfort and life. - -“Ugh! Well, here am I, in this pit--this back-staircase to the devil’s -dining room--alone, wet, hungry, and in darkness. St. Withold save me -from all fiends, and I’ll take care of aught beside. Let me see. Mayhap -I shall find some passage from this place. I am on solid rock that’s -well. Now for’t.” - -Cautiously creeping along in the darkness, he followed the winding of -the subterranean flood by its roaring, until he was suddenly stopped by -an upright stone, which, to his astonishment, he found to be square in -shape, and, feeling it carefully, he doubted not that it had been shapen -by the chisel of the mason. - -Over this stone Robin clambered, and alighted upon a large chisseled -stone laid in a horizontal position, and over this was placed another -stone of like form; and thus proceeding in his discoveries our stout -yeoman found that a stairway arose in front of him. - -With a shout of joy, bold Robin rushed up the steps of stone, which, -wide and roomy, afforded his feet firm and substantial footing. Some -forty steps, or more, now lay below him, when raising his foot to ascend -yet higher, the yeoman found it fall beneath him, and in a moment he -stood upon a floor, which to all likelihood was laid with slabs of -chisseled stone. - -Through this place he wandered, now stumbling against regularly-built -walls, now falling over hidden objects, now passing through doorway -after doorway, and again returning to the head of the stairway from -which he started. - -Hours passed. Sometimes Rough Robin would hear a faint booming sound far -above, which he supposed was the bell of the castle, tolling for the -death of the noble Count Di Albarone, known throughout Christendom, in a -thousand lays, as the bravest of crusaders, and the gentlest of knights. -The sound of this bell swung upon the breeze for miles around, whenever -it was struck--so Robin remembered well; yet now, far down in the depths -of the earth, a low moaning noise was all that reached the ears of the -stout yeoman. - -With every sinew stiffened, and with every vein chilled by the damp of -subterranean vaults, scarce able to breathe in the putrid air which had -never known light of sunbeam, his whole frame weakened by hunger, and -his brain confused by his dream-like adventures, Robin, the stout -yeoman, at last sank down upon a block of rough stone, where he remained -for hours in a state of half unconsciousness, which finally deepened -into a sound and wholesome slumber. - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRD. - -THE CHAPEL OF THE ROCKS. - - -THE MONKS OF THE ORDER OF THE HOLY STEEL HOLD SOLEMN COUNCIL IN THE WILD -WOOD. - -The scene was a wild and solitary dell, buried in the depths of the -forests, far away among the mountains; the time was high noon, and the -characters of the scene were the members of a dark and mysterious Order, -whose history is involved in shadow; whose names, embracing the highest -titles and the wealthiest nobles in the Dukedom of Florence, are wrapt -in mystery; whose deeds, performed in secret, and executed with the most -appalling severity, are to this day known and celebrated as household -words, in the legends of the valley of the Arno. - -A level piece of sward, some twenty yards in length, and as many in -width, extended greenly within the depths of the forest; its bounds -described, and its verdure shadowed, by huge masses of perpendicular -rock, which sprang upward from the very sod, towering in wild and rugged -grandeur, amid the deep, rich foliage of forest oaks and with the clear -summer sky seen far, far above, as from the depths of a well, forming -the roof of this hidden temple of nature. - -The rugged masses of perpendicular rock, piled upon each other in rude -magnificence, surrounded the glade in the form of a square. - -Viewed from the forest side, these rocks looked like one vast mound of -massive stone, placed in the wild-wood valley by some freak of nature. A -narrow, though deep and rapid stream, its waters shadowed to ebony -blackness, laved one side of the steps of granite. It swept beneath an -arching crevice, some three feet high, and as many thick, washed the sod -of the hidden glade and rolled along its edge, foaming against the -rugged walls; the waves plashing on high in showery drops, until it -suddenly disappeared under the opposite wall, and was lost in the -subterranean recesses of the earth. - -The mid-day sun, shining over the rich foliage of the surrounding -forests, where silence, vast and immense, seemed to live and feel; over -the rough walls of the Temple of Rocks, scarce ever visited by human -feet,--for strange legends scared the peasantry from the place, flung -his beams down from the very zenith along the quiet of the level sward, -with its encircling rocks, now animated by a scene of wild and peculiar -interest. - -Around a square table which arose from the centre of the sward, draped -with folds of solemn black, sat a band of twenty-four men, each figure -veiled in the thick folds of a monkish robe and cowl, each face -concealed and each arm buried within the fold of the sable garment. - -These were the priests of the Order of the Monks of the Steel. - -At the head of the table, on a chair of rough and knotted oak, placed on -a solitary rock, sate a tall and imposing figure, clad as the others, in -the robe and cowl of velvet, with his face veiled from sight and -sunbeam. His extended hand grasped a slender rod of iron, with a -sculpturing of clearest ivory, fashioned into a strange shape fixed on -the end--the solemn and revered Abacus of the Order. - -This was the High Priest of the Order of the Monks of the Steel. - -At the other end of the table was seated a figure, veiled and robed like -the rest, yet with a taller and more muscular form, while his hand laid -upon the velvet coverings of the table, grasped an axe of glittering -steel. - -He was the Doomsman of the Order. - -His voice denounced, his voice consigned to death, his voice was like an -echo from the grave, for it never spoke other words than the sentence of -Judgment. - -Grouped around the table, a circle of solemn figures, robed and veiled -like the others, stood shoulder to shoulder, each form holding a torch -on high with the left hand, while the right hand grasped a keen and -slender-bladed dagger. - -Silent and motionless they stood, the blue flame of the torch, held by -the upraised arm, burning over each head; every right hand steadily -grasping the dagger; while their robes scarce stirred into motion by the -heaving of the breast, looked like the drapery of some monkish effigy, -rather than the attire of living men. These were the Initiates, or -Neophytes of the Order. - -Their dagger it was that protruded from the breast of the victim, found -by the affrighted peasantry in the lonely woods, or seen by the careless -crowd thrown down, in all the ghastliness of murder, along the very -streets of Florence; on the steps of her palaces, in the halls of her -castles--even in the cloisters of her cathedral. - -Whom the Order condemned, or the Doomsman doomed, they the neophytes of -the Order, gave to the sudden death of the invisible steel. - -Never had the sun looked down upon a scene as solemn and dread as this. - -The chronicles of the olden time are rife with legends of secret orders, -linked together in some foul work of crime, or joined in the holy task -of vengeance on the wronger, or doom to the slayer; but these bands of -men were wont to assemble in dark caverns, lighted by the glare of -smoking torches, speaking their words of terror to the air of midnight, -and celebrating their solemn ceremonies amid the corses of the dead. - -The band assembled in the Chapel of Rocks were unlike all these, unlike -any band that ever assembled on the face of the earth. - -They met at noonday, raising their torches in the light of the sun, -whispering their words of doom in the wild solitudes of the woods, with -their faces and forms veiled from view, preserving the solemn unity of -the Order, by a uniformity of costume, while the rugged rocks, golden -with the mid-day beams, gave back, in sullen murmurs, the voice of the -accuser, or the sentence of the doomsman, coupled with the low-muttered -name of the doomed. - -From their solemn noonday meeting in the Chapel of Rocks, they issued -forth on their errands of death, leaving the reeking dagger in the heart -of the tyrant, as he slept in the recesses of his castle; flinging their -victims along the roadside of the mountain, or the streets of the city, -while the faint murmurs of the multitude, gazing at the work of the -_Invisible_, gave forth their name and mission: “Behold, behold the -vengeance of the Monks of the Steel!” - -As the sun towered in the very zenith, the high priest spoke, waving his -solemn abacus from his oaken throne. His words were few and concise. - -“Hail, brothers; met once again in the Chapel of Rocks. Hail, brothers, -from the convent, from the castle, and the cottage, hail! Prince and -peasant, lord and monk, met together in these solemn wilds, joined in -the work of vengeance on the wronger, death to the slayer, I bid ye -welcome. Herald arise; proclaim to the rising of the sun the meeting of -our solemn Order.” - -And the veiled figure seated on the right of the high priest arose, and -extending his hands on high looked to the east, chaunting with a low, -deep-toned voice: - -“Lo, people! lo, kings! lo, angels of heaven, and men of earth! The -solemn Order of the Monks of the Steel, hold high council in the Chapel -of the Rocks, beneath the light of the noonday sun. Vengeance on the -wronger, death to the slayer!” - -And rising with hands outspread and, solemn voices, three heralds -successively made proclamation to the north, to the south, and to the -setting sun, that the solemn Order of the Monks of the Steel, held high -council in the Chapel of Rocks, beneath the light of the noonday sun, -while thrice arose the wild denunciation--“_Vengeance to the wronger, -death to the slayer_!” - -“Priests of our solemn Order, ye have been abroad on your errands of -secrecy. Speak; what have ye seen, whom do ye accuse, whom do ye give to -the steel?” - -“I come from the people,” said a veiled figure, as he arose and spoke -from the folds of his robe, “Yesternight, like a shadow, I glided along -the streets of Florence, listening to the low-whispered murmurs of the -scattered groups of people. Every tongue had some foul wrong to tell; -every voice spoke of midnight murder, done at the bidding of a tyrant; -every voice whispered a story of woman’s innocence outraged, the gray -hairs of age dabbled in blood, the poor robbed, the weak crushed; while -the mighty raised their red hands to heaven, laughing with scorn, as if -they would shake the blood-drops in the very face of God. Ask ye the -name of the tyrant? Find it in the whispers of the people; the wronger -and the slayer was the Duke--the Duke of Florence!” - -“I come from the palace!” cried another robed priest, rising solemnly, -and speaking from the folds of his robe. “Mingling with the nobles of -Florence and the courtiers of the Duke, I heard low whispers of -discontent, murmurs of rebellion, and dark threats of assassination. The -Duke--the tyrant Duke--was on every lip, on every tongue. Florence is -slumbering over the depths of a mighty volcano--a moment, and lo! the -scathing fires ascend to the sky, the dark smoke blackens the face of -day!” - -“_I come from the scaffold!_” cried another dark robed figure, as he -arose and spoke through his muffled garment. “Last night, a mighty crowd -gathered around the gaol of Florence; every voice was fraught with a -tale of horror, every cheek was pale, and every eye fixed upon a dark -object, that rose in the centre of the multitude. Breasting my way -through the throng, I rushed forward, I gained the place of execution, I -beheld a dark scaffold rising like a thing of evil omen on the air. I -beheld the wheel of torture, the cauldron, and the axe! ‘For whom are -these?’ I cried. ‘For a lord of the royal blood of Florence,’ shrieked a -bystander: ‘for Adrian Di Albarone. To-morrow, at day-break, he dies; -condemned by the Duke and his minions, on the foul accusation of the -murder of his father!’ I know the accusation to be false. At this hour, -brothers of the Holy Steel, the ghost of the murdered shrieks for -vengeance, before the throne of God!” - -“Accusers of the Duke of Florence, do ye invoke upon your own souls the -punishment accorded to the tyrant, should your words prove false?” - -“We do!” - -“Priests of the solemn Order of the Holy Steel what shall be the doom of -the tyrant, the betrayer, the assassin?” - -“Death!” - -“Initiates of the Order, do ye accord this judgment?” - -“Death, death, death!” - -“Doomsman, arise and proclaim the judgment of the Order of the Monks of -the Holy Steel?” - -“Hear, oh heaven,--oh earth,--oh hell,” arose the harsh tones of the -doomsman, “Urbano, Duke of Florence, tyrant, assassin, and betrayer, is -doomed! I give his body to the gibbet, to the axe, to the steel! Though -he sleeps within the bridal chamber, there will the vengeance of the -Order grasp him; though he wields the sceptre on his ducal throne, there -will the death blow strike the sceptre from his hand, his carcass from -the throne, though he kneels at the altar, there will the dagger seek -his heart. Doomed, doomed, doomed!” - -And then, in a voice of fierce denunciation, he gave forth to the -noon-day air, the dark and fearful curse of the Order, whose sentences -of woe may not be written down on this page; a curse so dark, so dread, -and terrible, that the very priests of the Order drooped their heads -down low on each bosom, as the sounds of the doomsman startled their -ears. - -“Let his name be written down in the book of judgment, as the Doomed!” - -“Lo, it is written!” - -And as the doomsman spoke, a level slab of gray stone, which varied the -appearance of the green sward, some yards behind the chair of the High -Priest, slowly arose from the sod, and, unperceived by the monks of the -Order, two figures, robed in the cowl and monkish gown of the secret -band, emerged silently from the bosom of the earth, and took their -stations at the very backs of the torch bearers. - -“Who will be the minister of this doom? Who will receive the consecrated -steel, and strike it to the tyrant’s heart?” - -There was a low, deep murmur, a pause of hesitation, and then the -priests communed with each other in muttered whispers. - -“Who will minister this doom?” again echoed the High Priest, while the -sound of footsteps startled the silence of the place. “Who will receive -the consecrated steel, and strike it to the tyrant’s heart?” - -“Behold the minister!” cried a deep-toned voice as the strange figures -strode toward the table. “_Give me the steel!_” - -“It is Albertine!” echoed the members of the Order, and the wan face and -flashing eyes of the monk were disclosed by the falling cowl. - -“Behold the minister of this doom!” he shouted, advancing to the -doomsman. “Death to the tyrant! Give me the steel!” - -And as he spoke, the cowl fell from the face of the figure who stood -beside the monk, and the torch bearers, the monks, and the High Priest, -looked from their muffled robes in wonder and in awe, and beheld the -face of--_Adrian Di Albarone_. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTH. - -THE CHAPEL OF ST. GEORGE OF ALBARONE. - - - THE SOLEMN FUNERAL RITES OF THE MIGHTY DEAD, CONVEYED TO THE TOMB, - NOT AS THE VICTIM, BUT THE CONQUEROR. - -The beams of the midnight moon, streaming through the emblazoned panes -of the lofty arching windows, mingled with the blaze of long lines of -funeral torches, making the chapel of St. George of Albarone as light as -day, when illumined by the glare of the thunder storm, and revealing a -strange and solemn scene--the last rites of religion celebrated over the -corse of the mighty dead. - -The mingled light of moonbeam and glaring torch, revealed the roof of -the chapel arching above, all intricately carved and fettered, the lines -of towering columns, arabesque in outline and effect, the high altar of -the church, with its cross of gold and diamonds, won by the lords of -Albarone from the lands of Heathenesse, its rare painting of the dying -God, its rich sculpturings and quaint ornaments; while along the mosaic -floor, among the pillars, and around the altar, grouped the funeral -crowd, marking their numbers by the upraised torch and spear. - -An aged abbot, attired in the gorgeous robes of his holy office, with -long locks of snow-white hair falling over his shoulders, stood at the -foot of the altar, celebrating the midnight mass for the dead; while -around the venerable man were grouped the brothers of his convent, their -mingled robes of white and black giving a strange solemnity to the -scene. - -Beside the foot of the altar--resting in the ruddy glare of the funeral -torches, robed in full armor, partly concealed by a pall of snow-white -velvet, on a bier of green beechen wood, covered by skins of the wild -leopard, in simple majesty,--lay the corse of the gallant lord of -Albarone. - -The raised vizor revealed his stern features set grimly in death, while -his mail-clad arms were crossed on his muscular chest, robed in battle -armor. - -No coffin panels held his manly form; no death-shroud enveloped those -sinewy limbs; neither did things of glitter and show glisten along his -couch, heaping mockery on the dumb solemnity of the grave. - -It was the custom of Albarone, that the knight who once reigned lord of -its wide domains, should even in death meet the stern enemy of man, not -as victim, but as conqueror. - -Borne to the vaults of death, not with voices of wail and woe, but -compassed by men-at-arms; environed by upraised swords, the silent corse -seemed to smile in the face of the skeleton-god, and enter even the -domains of the grave in triumph, while the battle shout of Albarone rose -pealing above, and over the visage of the dead waved the broad banner of -the warlike race. - -Near the head of the corse, while along the aisles of the chapel -gathered the men-at-arms and servitors of Albarone, were grouped two -figures--an aged man and a youthful maiden. - -With his head depressed, his arms folded meekly over his breast, his -slender form clad in solemn folds of sable velvet, faced with costly -furs, and relieved by ornaments of scattered gold, the Count Aldarin Di -Albarone seemed absorbed in listening to the chaunt of the holy mass, -when, in sooth, his keen eye flashed with impatience, and his lip curved -with scorn, as he was forced to witness the ceremonies of a religion -whose mandates he defied, whose awful God his very soul blasphemed. - -The maiden, fair, and young, and gentle, her robes of white flowing -loosely around her form of grace, her hands half clasped and half -upraised, stood near the couch of the dead, her calm blue eyes fixed -upon the visage of the corse, while the memory of the fearful scene in -the Red Chamber swept over her soul, mingling with the thoughts of the -felon now festering on the wheel of Florence. - -The bosom of the Ladye Annabel rose and fell with a wild pulsation, and -her rounded cheeks grew like the face of death, as thus waiting beside -the dead, the thoughts of the past awoke such terrible memories in her -soul. - -Around, circling along the pavement, with stern visages and iron-clad -forms gleaming in the light, were grouped the men-at-arms of Albarone, -extending along the chapel aisles, in one rugged array of battle, while -each warrior held aloft a blazing torch with his left arm, as his good -right hand grasped the battle sword. - -Here and there were scattered servitors of Albarone, clad in the rich -livery of the ancient house, darkened by folds of crape, mingled with -the humble peasant vassals, whose faces, stamped with sorrow, mingled -with the general grief. - -Every voice was hushed, and every foot-tramp stilled, as the last -strains of the holy chaunt of the mass floated solemnly along the chapel -aisles, while high overhead, above armed warrior and white-robed monk, -floated the broad banner of Albarone, waving to and fro with the motion -of the night air, its gorgeous folds bearing the emblazoning of the -winged leopard, with the motto, in letters of gold. - - GRASP BOLDLY, AND BRAVELY STRIKE. - -As the last echoes of the holy ceremony of the mass died away along the -chapel aisles, Count Aldarin glanced over the group of white-robed -monks, with the venerable abbot of St. Peters of Florence in their -midst, and along the files of the iron-robed soldiers, for a single -moment, and then gazing upon the broad banner waving overhead, he spoke -in a bold and deep-toned voice: - -“Let the corse of Lord Julian Di Albarone be raised upon the shoulders -of the ancient men who served as esquires of his body.” - -Four men-at-arms, whose heads were whitened by the frosts of seventy -winters, advanced; and, raising the death-couch upon their shoulders, -with the right leg thrown forward, stood ready to march. - -At the same moment, the united strength of ten of the servitors threw -open the huge oaken panels of a trap-door, which, cut into the floor of -the middle aisle of the chapel, revealed a wide and spacious stairway, -descending into the bosom of the earth. - -The Count Aldarin seized the staff which bore the broad banner of -Albarone, he flung the azure folds to the night wind, and his voice rung -echoing along the chapel walls: - -“Vassals of Albarone, form around the corse of your lord. Draw your -swords, and raise the shout: ‘Albarone, to the rescue! Strike for the -Winged Leopard--strike for Albarone!’” - -With the battle cry pealing, their swords flashing in the light, and -their torches waving on high, the men-at-arms formed in files of four -behind the bier, which now began to move slowly toward the subterranean -stairway. - -In the rear of the men-at-arms came the Ladye Annabel, followed by the -venerable abbot, bearing aloft a crucifix of gold; while on either side -walked rosy-cheeked children, clad in robes of white, and holding -censers in their hands, which ever and anon they swung to and fro, -filling the air with perfume of frankincense and myrrh. - -Then came the monks, in their mingled robes of white and black, walking -with slow and solemn tread, and holding in one hand a torch, while the -other grasped a cross. - -As the ancient esquires who bore the bier of beechen wood, arrived at -the trap-door which discovered the subterranean stairway, the funeral -train halted for an instant. - -The sight was full of grandeur. - -The light of a thousand torches threw a ruddy glow upon the folds of the -broad banner--upon the glistening armor and bright swords of the -men-at-arms--over the snow-white attire of the long array of monks, and -along the cold face of the dead. The carvings that decorated the walls -of the church--the altar, rich with a thousand offerings--the cross of -gold, and the rare paintings--the arched and fretted roof, and the lofty -pillars, were all shown in bold and strong relief. - -“Ye ancient men who bear the corse of the Lord Di Albarone, ye who -served your lord with a faithful service while living, prepare to -descend into the vault of the dead, there to lay your sacred burden -beside his fathers. Vassals of Albarone, grasp your swords yet tighter, -and join, every man, in the battle song of our race. The house of -Albarone enter the tomb, not with wail and lamentation, but with song -and joy, as though they went to battle; with swords flashing, with armor -clanking, and with the broad banner of the Winged Leopard waving above -their heads.” - -Right full and loud sounded the voice of Count Aldarin, while his bent -form straightened proudly erect, as though he were suddenly fired with -the warlike spirit of his ancestors. His dark eye flashed as he shouted, -waving the banner over the bier: - -“Men of Albarone, to the rescue!” - -“Strike for the Winged Leopard!--strike for Albarone!” responded, with -one deep-toned voice the aged bearers of the bier, as they began to -descend the stairway. - -“Ha! an Albarone! an Albarone! Strike for the Winged Leopard! strike for -Albarone!” shouted the men-at-arms, as, waving their torches on high, -and brandishing their swords, they advanced with a hurried, yet measured -tread, after the manner they were wont to advance to the storming of a -besieged fortress. - -The aged abbot of St. Peters suddenly forgot his sacred character, and -stirred by the memory of the days when he had mingled in the din of -battle, side by side with the noble Lord Julian, he caught up the war -cry: “Albarone to the rescue!--a blow for the Winged Leopard!” and along -the line of white-robed monks ran the shout: “An Albarone! Ha! for the -Winged Leopard! Strike for Albarone!” and thus spreading from the -men-at-arms to the abbot, from the abbot to the monks, the cry of battle -resounded along the aisles of the chapel, and was echoed again and again -from the fretted roof. - -As the corse disappeared down the stairway, followed by the funeral -train, the war song of Albarone was raised by the men-at-arms--wild and -thrilling arose the notes of the chaunt, that had swelled in the van of -a thousand battles. - -The subterranean stairway seemed to be without end. At last, when some -five score steps had been passed, the bearers of the corse found -themselves in a long and narrow passage, which having slowly traversed, -they stood at the head of a winding stairway. - -This they descended, while louder, and yet more loud arose the chaunt of -the battle song, mingling with the clash of swords and the clank of -armor. - -At the foot of this stairway lay another passage, narrower than the -last, from which it differed in that it was hewn out of the solid rock, -while the walls of the other were built of chisseled stone. - -Along this passage the procession slowly proceeded, the walls -approaching closer together at every step, until at last there was -barely room for the bier to pass; when suddenly, as if by the wand of a -magician, the scene was changed, and the funeral train found themselves -in the vault of the dead. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIFTH. - -THE CAVERN OF ALBARONE. - - - THE FUNERAL TRAIN, BEARING THE CORSE ALONG THROUGH THE GROUPS OF - SPECTRAL-FORMS, ARE AWE STRICKEN BY THE APPEARANCE OF A STRANGE - KNIGHT. - -Above, the cavern roof spread vast and magnificent, like an earth-hidden -sky. - -Around, on every side, in rugged grandeur, extended the rocky walls; and -far in the distance, the solid pavement seemed to grow larger and wider, -as the gazer looked upon its surface of substantial stone. - -The light of the funeral torches flashing over the abrupt rocks, -revealed the level floor, and gave a faint glimpse of the vast arch -extending far above. The ruddy beams flashing on every side, disclosed a -strange and bewildering spectacle. - -Around the walls of the cavern, and over the floor, were scattered -figures of gigantic stone, rising from the pavement, at irregular -intervals, in various and strangely contrasted attitudes, bearing the -most singular resemblance to the gestures of living men, yet with every -face stamped with an expression that chilled the heart of the gazer, as -though he beheld a spirit of the unreal world. - -A wild legend was written in the archieves of Albarone, concerning these -strange figures. - -In the olden time, when eternal midnight brooded through these cavern -halls, a demon band shook the rugged arches with their sounds of hellish -wassail, startling the gloom of night and the brightness of noonday -above, with the echo of their shrieks and yells; while their foul -blasphemies of the AWFUL UNKNOWN infected the very air with a curse, and -sent disease and death abroad from the cavern over the land, until every -lip grew pale, and every heart was chilled, at the mention of the demon -vault of Albarone. - -It was when the impious revel swelled loudest; when the infernal goblet -was raised to every lip; when the glances of glaring eyes, burning with -the curse of Lucifer, were exchanged between the supernatural revellers; -when the sounds of mockery and yells of blasphemy, echoing and -thundering around the vault, realized a hell on earth, that the words of -the Invisible broke over the scene, and the figures of the demon band -were suddenly transformed to lifeless stone. - -This wild tradition gained credence from the positions and attitudes of -these strange statues. - -The smallest of the figures was three times as large as the tallest and -most robust of men; there were others whose heads of dark rock well nigh -touched the cavern’s roof, while their outstretched arms and writhing -attitude filled the gazer with indefinable dread. - -Some were springing in the festal dance, the smile, grim and ghost-like -wreathing their lips of stone; some were circling in groups of wild -revelry, their faces agitated by laughter; while others, with upturned -countenances, bearing the impress of every dark and hellish passion, and -arms thrown wildly aloft, seemed daring the vengeance of heaven, and -mocking the power of God. - -Among all these various and contrasted figures, there was not one form -of beauty, not one shape of grace; but all were expressive of low, -bestial revelry, servile terror, or else of sublime hatred and defiance. - -Some were formed of the darkest, and some of the lightest stone. Here -arose a form of dark rock, side by side with a shape of snow-white -stone; yonder towered a figure of dusky red, and farther on, a form of -dark blue, veined by streaks of crimson and purple, broke through the -darkened air. - -The ancient esquires who bore the corse, had faced the brunt of a -hundred battles, and fought in the van of a thousand frays, yet it was -not without a shiver of terror that they looked around upon this wild -and unearthly scene, thronged with those dark and fiend-like figures. - -As they advanced, a new wonder attracted the attention of the funeral -train. - -Far in the cavern, to all appearance near the centre, a vast mound, of a -square form, arising from the level pavement, was hung with burning -lamps, and overlooked by a figure of stone, which seemed to those of the -funeral train to exceed all the others, both in the magnitude of its -height, and the wildness of its attitude. The lamps burning above this -mound, threw a strong light over the dark figure, and along the -pavement, for some few yards around; while the space between the mound -and the procession was lost in entire darkness. - -The bearers of the corse, advancing towards the mound, led on the -funeral train, who all, save the Count Aldarin, seemed seized with a -sudden and indefinable dread. The battle song was still continued, the -swords were still brandished, and the torches were still waved on high; -but there was a tremor in the notes of the song, the swords were grasped -with the nervous sensation that men ever feel when expecting to meet -antagonists of the unknown world, and the waving of the torches was -accompanied by the muttered exorcisms of the monks. - -As for the Ladye Annabel, she leaned half swooning upon the arm of the -venerable abbot, who, in good sooth, was as much frightened as the -maiden. - -The esquires who bore the remains of their gallant lord, had now gained -near half the way over the pavement of stone, toward the mound; the last -of the servitors had emerged from the narrow passage into the cavern and -the whole train extending in one unbroken line, marked by the long array -of torches flashing over the armor of the warriors, and the white robes -of the monks, presented a striking and imposing spectacle. - -Aldarin turned suddenly round, and exclaimed, with a wild gesture: - -“How now, vassals? Why this tremor?--Whence this alarm? Do I not lead -you? Raise the battle song of our race yet higher, and advance yet more -boldly! The banner of the Winged Leopard waves above ye! Shout the war -cry, and let your noble lord be borne to his rest as were his fathers -before him. Shout the war cry--shout--” - -Wheeling suddenly around in the warmth of his excitement, he turned from -the men-at-arms, to the corse-bearers, and at the very instant, started -a step backward with involuntary horror. The corse sate erect in the -death-couch, the white pall falling back from the iron-clad shoulders -while the light of the torches fell vividly upon its unclosed eyes as -their cold, stony glare rested upon the face of Aldarin. - -Aldarin felt his very heart leaping within his bosom, while big beaded -drops of moisture, clammy as the death-sweat, stood out from his -forehead. - -“The Corse hath arisen in the death-couch”--he hurriedly whispered--“The -eyes of the dead are unclosed, they are gazing around the vault of -death.” - -“It is the custom of Albarone,” exclaimed a white-haired Esquire,--“We -have raised the corse erect, we have unclosed its eyes. The mighty dead -of Albarone enter the vault of death, proudly and erect, with their -unclosed eyes gazing fearlessly on the tomb--such is the custom of -Albarone!” - -“Thanks--brave Esquire--Thanks”--slowly and gaspingly exclaimed Aldarin, -as he recovered his powers of mind. “Men of Albarone,” he exclaimed in a -loud and commanding tone, “Gaze ye upon the face of the unconquered -Dead, gaze upon the erect form, the unclosed eyes, daring the terror of -the tomb--and as ye gaze, let the battle-song of our race peal to the -very cavern’s roof! Shout the war-cry, shout--” - -A figure clad from head to foot in azure armor of shining steel, leaped -from behind a form of stone, arising from the cavern floor, at the head -of the bier, and seizing the banner-staff from the hands of Aldarin, -finished his sentence-- - -“Shout”--exclaimed the figure armed in azure steel--“Shout Albarone to -the rescue! Death to the Murderer!” - -The thunder-tones of that voice were known, along the line of -men-at-arms, through the columns of the Monks. One wild shout arose from -the warriors-- - -“Ha! For Albarone! Adrian, our Lord, comes from the dead to lead us! -On--on! Strike for the Winged Leopard--strike for Albarone!” - -Strange it was that the very men, who a moment before had trembled with -undefined terror, now hailed with joy the presence of one whom they -supposed to have risen from the dead. - -In an instant all was confusion and uproar. The Esquires set down the -corse, and together with the men-at-arms, clustered around the figure in -azure armor, shouting and making the very cavern’s roof re-echo with -their exclamations of joy. - -The tumult and out-cry, coupled with the name of Adrian, reached the -ears of the fair Ladye Annabel, who already half swooning with terror, -now felt her brain whirling in wild confusion, as she fell fainting in -the arms of the Abbot of St. Peters. - -“Brethren,”--cried the Abbot, addressing the monks--“Haste ye away to -the upper air for aid, while I stay here with the maiden, and exorcise -yon devil, if devil it may be, with solemn prayers and ceremonies. -Away--away, the fair Ladye may die, ere ye can return with aid.” - -It needed no second word from the Abbot; the Monks gazed in each other’s -faces with affrighted looks, and then trooping hurriedly together, -hastened across the floor of the cavern, followed by the Servitors, who -but a moment past formed part of the procession. It was but an instant -ere the white robes of the monks, and the gay livery of the servitors, -were lost to view within the confines of the narrow passage. - -The Abbot holding the fainting maiden in his arms, her white attire -mingling with his sacerdotal robes, gazed around the cavern, and found -to his astonishment that all around him was wrapt in darkness, while far -ahead, he could discern the lights of the death mound, breaking through -the gloom, with the glare of torches, held aloft by the men-at-arms, -creating a brilliant space between his position and the mound of the -dead. - -“All is dark”--murmured the Abbot--“All is dark around me--yet far -ahead, I behold the men-at-arms clustering round the Strange -Figure--their swords rise aloft, and their distant shouts break on my -ear! She lays in my arms, cold, cold and senseless. Save me, mother of -Heaven, but I cannot feel the beating of her heart--I hear no sound of -aid, no voice of assistance! The cavern is damp, and she may die ere -they come with succor,--I will away and seek for aid myself. Lay there, -gentle Ladye, at the foot of this strange Statue--thus I enfold thee in -my robes of white--thus I defend thee from the cold and damp--in a -moment I will be with thee again! God aid my steps!” - -At the foot of a figure of stone, wrapping her form in his glittering -robe of white and gold, which he doffed from his own trembling frame, -the Abbot rested the Ladye Annabel, all cold and insensible, and then -hastened from the Cavern in search of aid. - -There was a long, long pause around the spot where lay the maiden, while -fearful mysteries were enacting far beyond, on the summit of the -Death-Mound. - -When the Abbot again returned he was companioned by armed men, with -glittering attire and flashing swords. He sought the resting-place of -the maiden; he beheld nothing but the rough floor of the cavern. The -Ladye Annabel had disappeared, and the grotesque figure rising from the -pavement seemed to grin in mockery as the horror-stricken Abbot gazed -upon the vacant stone, where he had laid the maiden down to rest, her -form of beauty, sheltered by his sacred robes. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SIXTH. - -THE ORDEAL. - - -Without much physical bravery, the Count Aldarin possessed a soul worthy -of the noblest efforts of moral courage, yet now while the men-at-arms -gathered with shouts and exclamations of joy, around the Azure Figure, -he stood trembling like a reed shaken by the winter wind, his face at -all times destitute of color, became lividly pale, and with quivering -lips and chattering teeth, he remained for a moment silent and -motionless. - -Superstitious terror, he was wont to contemn, fear of the supernatural, -he was known to despise, yet now when the voice of the dead rang in his -ears, and the form which had been extended on the Wheel of the Doomsman, -moved before his eyes, he thought the voice and form had sprung from the -unknown recesses of the grave. - -It was after the lapse of a few moments, that he summoned courage to -advance through the crowd of men-at-arms, and fixing his keen eye on the -form of the unknown knight, he spoke-- - -“Who Sir, art thou? What is thine errand in this lonely vault of the -dead? Why disturb the funeral rites of the Lord Di Albarone?” - -“I come to avenge his murder!” - -“Ha!” shouted Aldarin--“His murderer is already doomed--even now he -festers upon the wheel!” - -“His murderer lives”--shouted the Figure, through the bars of his closed -helmet,--“His murderer breathes, while the Corse asks in the speechless -tongue of death--asks and prays to God, to man for vengeance! The -Murderer walks the earth, walks in the calm sunshine, while the Murdered -rots and crumbles in gloom and darkness. His murderer is here--aye among -the brave soldiers, who followed Julian of Albarone to battle, stands -the foul miscreant.--THOU ART THE MURDERER!” - -A wild thrill of surprise and horror ran through the group. From heart -to heart, like lightning leaping from cloud to cloud, darted the wild -words of the accuser; from eye to eye flew the quick glance of -vengeance, and from lip to lip swelled the shout of the avengers. - -“Hew him down!” cried one--“For days have we all thought him guilty. Our -suspicions are now confirmed--the corse pleads for his blood!” - -“Down with the brother-murderer!” - -“Lo! I whet my knife for his blood!” - -“Our Lord”--exclaimed a tall and stalwart man-at-arms--“Our Lord Adrian -doth rise from the dead to convict thee of the murder of thy brother! -Miscreant, canst thou deny it?” - -The four ancient Esquires said not a word, but each of them raised his -dagger, they seized the Scholar Aldarin, with one firm grasp, their eyes -were fixed upon his visage in one stern glare, their instruments of -vengeance gleamed over his head, and with silent determination, they -awaited the command to strike and kill. - -The Azure Knight stayed their hands. - -“Onward, brave soldiers”--he cried--“onward to the tomb of the race of -Albarone. There will we administer the Ordeal to the old man, there, -beneath the shadow of the Demon of our Race, shall he swear that he is -guiltless. Onward--bearers of the corse--in the name of the Winged -Leopard, onward!” - -Raising the bier upon their shoulders, with the corse still sitting -grimly erect, the ancient Esquires advanced toward the Mound, led onward -by the Unknown Knight, while in the rear, surrounded by men-at-arms, -walked the Scholar Aldarin, his head drooped low, and his arms folded -across his breast. - -He said no word, he uttered no sound of entreaty, but his keen gray -eyes, half-buried by his contracting brows, seemed all aflame with the -intensity of his thoughts. - -The Mound, with all its ponderous outline, lighted by the lamps burning -on the summit, now began to appear more clearly through the gloom. - -At first it seemed like some vast pile of rocks, heaped on high by a -giant-hand, and then, as the men-at-arms drew near and nearer, it -gradually assumed a definite form, rising like a pyramid, its three -sides fashioned into steps of living rock, while from the fourth, arose -the dark figure of stone, towering far, far above, its arms wildly -outspread, its face looking down upon the tomb, as its vacant eyes -seemed fixing their weird and terrible glance upon the faces of the -dead. - -The strange procession reached the mound, they ascended twenty steps of -stone, and the bearers of the corse found themselves standing upon the -summit, from the centre of which arose a solid block of stone, some -thirty feet in length and seven in width, while it was but four feet in -height. - -On the top of this rock, within the hollow of a cavity, hewn out of the -living stone, lay the remains of the Lords of Albarone, placed there -from age to age, from generation to generation, through the long lapse -of six hundred years. - -It was a strange scene. - -The lamps of iron, curious in fashion and ponderous in size placed at -intervals around the rock, cast their glaring light over the crumbling -remains, each grisly skeleton attired in the warlike costume of the age -that beheld his glory and owned his rule. - -Here the thin and blackened arm-bones of a Gothic warrior were crossed -upon his breast-plate of gold, which long years ago had covered the -plain tunic, worn by these iron-men, who swept like an avalanche from -the Alps of the North, over the fair plains of Italy. - -The lamp-beams glimmering over the skeleton, revealed the bones below -the breast-plate, mouldering into dust, while the fragments of the feet -were encircled in the simple yet warlike sandals of iron once worn by -the warriors from the land of the Goth. - -Side by side with this relic, the bones of another skeleton gleamed -grimly through the bars and armor-plates of a later age, wrapping the -remains of the mighty dead, from the helmeted skull to the iron-booted -feet. - -And thus extending along the cavity in the surface of the rock, skull -after skull and skeleton succeeding skeleton, reposed the Lords of the -House of Albarone, types of contrasted ages, clad in strange and various -costumes, or enwrapped in the stern iron armour, which had defended -their living forms in the terror of battle. - -The boast of the proud House--that the earth of the grave-yard should -never soil a Lord of the race of Albarone--was fulfilled. - -Over this singular tomb towered the dark figure of gigantic rock, its -rude arms thrown wildly aloft, while its downcast eyes of stone were -fixed upon the corses of the dead. - -Many a legend, whispered beside the hearths of the peasantry, or told by -the minstrel in the hall of the castle, inspiring its hearers with -terror and awe, spoke in words of fear of the demon-form arising in the -cavernous recesses of Albarone, its mighty power, and the strange -sympathy it possessed for the race of the Winged Leopard. - -Some traditions, dim and indistinct, yet fraught with wild mysteries, -named the figure as the representation of the Northern-God ODIN, stating -that in ages long gone by, it had been worshipped with infant sacrifice -and midnight bloodshed, while the Lords of Albarone flung themselves in -awe beneath its gloomy shadow. - -Other legends named the rude creation of rocks as the Demon of the race -of Albarone, brooding silently over the tomb of the Lords, while its -heart of stone was sentient with a strange soul, its broad chest -impassioned a conscious spirit, its giant limbs were instinct with a -fearful life, and its eyes looked forth with an expression that froze -the blood of the gazer to behold. - -Such were the legends, differing in their style and incident, yet all -uniting in throwing the veil of mystery and shadow over the dark, dread -form of stone. - -It was seen but once in the life time of a Lord of Albarone, when he -celebrated the funeral rites of his predecessor, and the demon-form once -seen, the cavern of the dead was never traversed by his living form -again. - -Thrice the funeral train passed round the tomb, the esquires bearing the -upright corse, thrice they raised the wild chaunt of the battle-song of -Albarone, while far and wide the depths of the cavern gave back the -sound, swelling in a thousand echoes, like successive claps of August -thunder. - -The death-couch was then rested upon the platform of stone. - -The ancient Esquires slowly raised the corse, again the battle-cry -swelled through the cavern, the men-at-arms wildly clashed their swords -together, while the banner streamed proudly in the torch-light. - -“Men of Albarone!” spoke the solemn tones of the Azure-Knight; “The -Count Julian of Albarone is laid beside his fathers!” - -Louder clashed the swords, more proudly waved the banner, and higher and -yet higher swelled the song as the mailed corse was placed in the -cavity, side by side with its ancestors. - -The figure in azure armor glanced round upon the group of men-at-arms, -and exclaimed in a deep-toned voice, that thrilled to every heart-- - -“Fall back, vassals of Albarone. Let Aldarin, brother of the late Lord, -advance!” - -Aldarin advanced with a sneer upon his pale countenance. - -“Ha--ha!” he muttered to himself, “they think to frighten me with their -senseless mummery--their childish mockery! Frighten Aldarin with -superstition--Aldarin, who believes not in their God! Ha--ha! I am -here,” he continued aloud--“What would ye with me?” - -“Old man!” exclaimed the Stranger-knight, “look upon the corse of thy -murdered brother.--Behold the features pale with death; the clammy brow, -the sunken cheek, the livid lip--look upon that corse, and say you did -not do the murder!” - -The men-at-arms looked on with intense interest, their forms clad in -iron armor, were crowded together, and every eye was fixed upon the -Scholar. - -The face of Aldarin was calm as innocence, as he replied--“_I did not do -the murder!_” - -“Give me thy hand--place thy fingers upon the livid lips of the corse.” - -Boldly did Aldarin reach forth his hand, and touch the compressed mouth -of the mailed corse. - -The lips slowly parted, and a thin stream of blood emerged from the -mouth, and trickled over the lower lip and down the chin, staining the -gray beard of the deceased warrior with its dark red hue. - -The men-at-arms shrunk back with sudden horror, and each soldier could -hear the gasping of his comrade’s breath. - -A tremor passed over the frame of Aldarin, and his face became pale as -that of the corse beside which he stood. - -“Wilt thou now say thou art innocent?” exclaimed the stranger-knight. -“The corse--the lifeless form of thy murdered brother, shrinks at thy -accursed touch.” - -“_I am innocent!_” cried Aldarin, recovering his determined tone of -voice. “_By the God of heaven and earth, I swear it!_” - -“What say ye, vassals of Albarone? Is this man innocent?” - -Then arose one firm, determined cry from the men-at-arms-- - -“He is guilty--heaven and earth proclaim it! The dead witness it!” - -And the depths of the cavern returned the hollow echo--“Guilty--guilty!” - -They all advanced a step toward the accused. Each eye fired with one -expression; the sinews of each hand were strained to bursting, as they -grasped their well-tried swords. - -“One trial more,” exclaimed the figure in armor of azure steel. “Aldarin -of Albarone, look upon that awful form which towers above us. Behold the -arms outstretched, as if to hurl the red lightning bolt down upon thy -guilty head. Mark well those eyes of stone--the fearful look of that -dark countenance--the eyes are fixed upon thee; and the brow lowers at -thee. Look, Aldarin of Albarone, look upon the Demon of our race. Call -to mind the fearful legends of that demon’s vengeance upon all who ever -wronged the House of Albarone. Think of the time when those lips of -stone have sent forth a voice to convict the guilty; when those arms of -rock have been filled with life to crush the wretch whom the voice -convicted. Old man, art thou ready for the ordeal?” - -Aldarin cast one glance around. A dead silence reigned throughout the -cavern. The torches cast a strong light upon the long line of robed -skeletons, and upon the stern visage of the murdered Lord. The faces of -the men-at-arms glared fiercely upon the accused: their eyes sparkled -from under their woven brows, their lips were compressed, and their -half-raised swords glowed in the ruddy light. - -Aldarin looked above. The massive brow, the stone eye-balls, the -sneering lip, of that dread dark face of stone, were all turned to -glaring red by the strong light of many torches. Each sinew of the -muscular arms; the clenched hands; the bold prominence of the gigantic -chest; the strong outline of the towering figure, were all shown in bold -and sublime relief. - -Aldarin raised his hands on high. - -“Dark form--Demon of our race--Before thee I swear--I am guiltless.” - -“_Murderer!_” a hollow voice exclaimed. The sound rung thro’ the arches -of the cavern like the voice of the dead. - -“Ha!” shouted the men-at-arms, “behold--behold the Demon speaks; the -lips of stone move; the eyes fire--behold!” - -The voice again rung thro’ the cavern--“_Murderer!_” - -Aldarin started. The sneer upon his lip had fled. In a moment he lay -prostrate upon the platform of stone, and a score of swords flashed over -him. - -“I confess--I confess!” shouted he, in hurried tones; “I ask but one -moment to prepare me for death. Grant me this boon, and ye are -Christians.” - -“Dog!” shouted one of the pall-bearers, “thy victim died without -shrift--” - -“So shalt thou die!” cried another. - -“Lo! my knife is whetted for thy blood!” - -“Hold!” exclaimed the strange knight, “let him have his request!” - -Aldarin arose and drew from his vest a small missal, with clasps of -gold, and covers that blazed with jewels. - -“I would pray,” he exclaimed meekly, as pressing the clasps of the -missal, it flew open, discovering not the leaves of a book of prayer, -but a hollow casket. Taking a small phial of silver from the bottom of -this casket, he held it hurriedly to the flame of a torch, and then with -as much haste, he applied the mouth of the phial to a bright stone that -was fixed under the lid of the casket. - -The stone emitted quick flashing sparks of fire, and a light misty smoke -emerging from the mouth of the phial, spread like a cloud around -Aldarin, and rolled through the vault in waving columns. - -It was accompanied by a pungent odor, which, far sweeter than perfume of -frankincense and myrrh, stole over the senses of the astonished -spectators, gradually benumbing their limbs, and depriving them both of -motion and consciousness. - -The figure in azure armor rushed forward to seize the murderer, but his -limbs refused their office, and he fell upon the platform of stone, his -armor ringing as he fell. At the same moment, while the smoke grew -thicker and the odor more pungent, the men-at-arms--both those who stood -upon the platform and those who thronged the steps of stone--fell to the -earth as one man. The ancient Esquires drew their daggers and advanced. - -The Count Aldarin gave a derisive laugh. - -“Dogs!” shouted he, “ye knew not of my last resort! I hold a power above -your grasp--receive the reward of your insolence. Down, ye slaves!” - -Flashes of fire played like lightning in the wreaths of smoke. The -Esquires tottered and fell prostrate among their fellows. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. - -THE BLOW FOR THE WINGED LEOPARD. - - -The light of the lamps, burning along the tomb, fell over the steps of -stone, and cast its crimson glow over the dread face of the Demon-Form, -while the sands of the fourth part of an hour, sank in the glass of -time. The knight in armor of azure steel, was the first to rise from the -strange slumber which the chemical spell of the Scholar had flung around -the senses of the avengers. He arose, he looked wildly over the steps of -stone and along the cavern.--_Aldarin was gone._ - -The azure knight gazed around the gloom and darkness of the vault of -death, for some moments, while the utter silence of the place impressed -his heart with a strange awe. - -A sound struck his ear. It was the sound of men marching in order of -battle. It grew louder, and was mingled with the clanking of armor and -the clashing of swords. Listening intently for a few moments, the knight -of the azure armor at last beheld a body of men-at-arms emerge from the -narrow passage that led into the cavern, with long lines of torches -shining upon a brilliant array of upraised swords, armor of gold, -mingled with shining spears and waving pennons. - -They advanced in regular order, being formed in two distinct columns, -between which, at the head of the party, walked one distinguished from -the others by the richness of his armor, while his voice of command -showed him to be the leader of the company. - -While they poured across the floor of the cavern, the knight of the -azure armor scanned them with great attention, as he exclaimed, with a -shout of joy. - -“They come--the shallow-pated Duke and his minions. One blow--one good -straight-forward blow, and I am Lord of the halls of my ancestors.” - -With his right hand he seized his sword, and with his left he waved the -banner of the WINGED LEOPARD. - -“Up--up!--Ye men Albarone. Up with your swords, and strike for the -Winged Leopard, for your Lord and his rights!” - -The men-at-arms awoke, like men awaking from troubled sleep and hideous -dreams. They groped hastily for their swords over the steps of stone and -along the platform, and in a few moments they stood erect and prepared -for fight. - -“Range yourselves, my brave men, on either side of the tomb, in the -darkness. Ye number fifty in all; our enemies appear to count ten times -our force. Behold!--they continue to pour into the cavern. But -hist!--The watchword is--‘_Ha! for the Winged Leopard_.’” - -The men-at-arms of his Grace of Florence were now within one hundred -yards of the mound. - -“Well, by St. Paul,” exclaimed the Duke, “this is certainly a very -dreary looking place. Really one could imagine this cavern to be a very -fit habitation for witches, devils, or any other unnecessary things. -Where be these caitiff knaves, of which my Lord the Count Aldarin told -us of? Advance, my brave men; find these villains. They have stolen the -Ladye Annabel away--despatch them, and then we will have time to share -the banquet of our lordly host!” - -The broad banner of the Duke, of glaring red, having a lion rampant -emblazoned on its folds, was now unfurled, and the company advanced in -the same careless order, in which they had proceeded over the floor of -the cavern. - -“By the tomb of my ancestors, will I flesh my maiden sword. By the corse -of my father, will I fight for my right.” - -The knight of the azure armor grasped his sword more firmly. In another -moment the torches of the Duke’s followers would flash upon the armor of -his ambushed men, in another moment he would stand disclosed before the -eyes of the Duke. With a flashing eye he measured the clear level space -that lay between the mound and the advancing men-at-arms. - -A whisper to his men--a firmer grasp of his sword, and a firmer grasp of -the banner staff, and the knight in three good leaps, sprang down the -twenty steps of stone, shouting as he sprang--“Ha! for the Winged -Leopard! Ha! for Albarone!” - -At his back, with swords drawn, and springing with all the litheness of -youth, came the four ancient Esquires, and behind them, leaping from the -opposite side of the mound, with swords likewise drawn, and with the -war-cry pealing to the cavern’s roof, came the two bodies of -men-at-arms, numbering twenty-five in each company. - -Another leap and another spring, and the azure knight stands within -striking distance of the astonished Duke. Quick as thought he planted -his banner in the cavern floor, and grasping his sword with both hands, -he whirled it once round his head, and throwing all his strength in the -blow, he brought it down full upon the golden crest of the tyrant, who -was driven to the very earth by the vigor of the stroke. - -In an instant the foot of the azure knight was upon the breast of the -prostrate prince, and while the men-at-arms, on right and left, and the -esquires at his back, were carrying on the strife right merrily, he -prepared for another stroke. He shortened his grasp of the sword, and -gazing sternly through the bars of his helmet, down into his fallen -enemy’s uncovered face, with all the strength of his stalwart arm, he -essayed to send his weapon into his very throat. - -The blow descended whizzing through the air, but its aim was foiled. One -of the ancient esquires, with a stout stroke of his sword, sent a vassal -reeling before the person of the Duke, and thus drove aside the blow of -the azure knight, which sank deep into the lifeless corse thrown so -suddenly before him. - -And now the followers of the Duke gathered around the champions of the -Winged Leopard, in vast numbers, hurrying forward without order, and -dropping their torches in their haste. - -The azure knight was driven back, and as he receded, the blood of the -oldest of the gallant esquires stained his armor. - -“On, my brave men!” shouted he. “A blow for Albarone!” At every -exclamation a foe took the measure of his grave upon the cavern floor. - -“Ha! for the Winged Leopard!” he shouted, as perceiving the head of the -Duke among the throng, he essayed to greet him with one gallant blow. At -the same moment, his men-at-arms sunk on one knee, and thus received the -disorderly charge of their foes. It was in vain. On all sides thronged -the followers of the Duke, and one after the other the brave champions -of the Winged Leopard fell bleeding and dead upon the pavement of stone. - -Onward and onward pressed the azure knight, gallantly breasting the -flood before him, throwing his foes to the right and left, until he -again fronted the Duke. - -And at the very instant, with soft and noiseless footsteps, there glided -along the steps of the mound of stone, a fair and lovely form, clad in a -strange robe, of white and gold, soiled by the cavern earth, and -floating abroad in the night air, in waving folds like spirit-wings. She -gained the platform of the mound, and fixed one half-conscious glance -upon the corse of the dead, while her large blue eyes warmed with a -glance of holy affection. - -“He sleeps, my uncle”--she murmured--“anon, I will give him the -potion--and then--ah, then he will arise and smile upon me!” - -She turned her wild glance to the scene passing in the cavern floor far -below, she heard the distant shouts, she caught a vision of one -well-known form, which her half-crazed brain deemed a visitant from the -spirit world. - -It was a picture of loveliness, rising amid gloom and death, the -beautiful maiden raised to her full stature, one fair hand resting upon -the dark mound, while with the other thrown wildly across her brow, she -essayed to pierce the gloom of the cavern beyond. Her robes floated -lightly round her form, revealing the delicate symmetry of that maiden -shape, a glimpse of the snow-white bosom as it heaved in the light, the -outlines of the neck, while the blooming loveliness of her countenance, -half-shaded by the upraised hand, was varied by sudden and changing, -yet dream-like expressions. - -“I see his form”--she murmured--“and yet ’tis a dream--they seize him, -they--O, heaven help me, they raise their swords above his head--” - -“Maiden, fling thy robe!--fling the death-pall over the funeral -lamps!”--a solemn voice broke on the air directly overhead. - -She looked above, she shrieked with horror, for the cold strange eyes of -the Demon-Figure met her gaze. - -Meanwhile, breasting his way through the opposing crowd of foemen, the -azure knight neared the person of the Duke, he stood before the tyrant -face to face. - -“Die, tyrant!” he shouted, as springing back to give effect to his blow, -he threw his sword on high. It descended full upon the shoulder of the -Duke, and severing his armor, snapped suddenly short, and the azure -knight was left defenceless in the hands of his enemies. - -“Up with the caitiff’s vizor,” shouted the Duke. “Let us see the bravo’s -face. Up with his vizor.” - -The captive knight cast a glance around, and beheld his followers--the -dying and the dead--strewn over the floor of the cavern. The brave old -Esquires lay side by side, their sinewy hands still grasping their -broken swords, and their gray hair dabbled in blood. - -“Sir Duke,” exclaimed the captive, “behold the bravo!” He raised his -vizor, and the features of Adrian Di Albarone, pale and sunken, were -revealed. “Behold the bravo!” - -“Now, by the body of God!” shouted the Duke, boiling with passion, “thou -shalt not escape me this time.--Dog----” - -“These hands itch for thy blood”--shrieked a shrill and ringing voice, -and Adrian beheld the distorted form and mis-shapen features of the -Doomsman, pressing forward from the throng of men-at-arms, with his -talon-like fingers grasping the air, while his face wore the expression -of a demon in human guise,--“These hands itch for thy blood! Ha!--ha! -Once escaped--the second time, the hot iron, the melted lead and the -wheel of torture, wait not for thee in vain! Ha, ha,--hark how the -cavern roof joins in my laugh. Great Duke, the Doomsman claims his -victim!” - -“Duke--tyrant, I am in thy power!” shouted Adrian, gazing upon the -circle of men-at-arms who surrounded him. “These thongs, they are for my -wrists! Yon chains--they soon will fasten this body to the dungeon -floor! Thou art sure of thy victim--Lo! I defy thee!” - -And as he spoke, there came gliding from the darkness of the cavern, two -forms, clad in robes of sable velvet, who advanced hastily along the -floor, and stood between the victim and the Duke. - -“Lo! I defy thee! Tremble for thine own head, tyrant and coward! Tremble -and turn pale, for lo! even now, the axe glimmers high above thy head, -whetted for the Wronger’s blood--in a moment it descends--beware the -blow!” - -And as he spoke, while the Duke recoiled with a sudden start, and even -the Doomsman trembled as he beheld the sable figures standing before his -victim, silent and motionless, yet with the long curved dagger in their -girdles, and the parchment scroll in their hands, all suddenly became -dim and indistinct, and the cavern was wrapped in darkness. - -The lights burning on the mound, were extinguished by an unknown hand, -while every eye beheld a waving robe of white, fluttering in the air, -the moment ere darkness came down upon the scene. - -“Torches there!” shouted the Duke--“Look to the prisoner, vassals! -Torches there, I say!” - -Torches were presently seen hurrying from the farther end of the cavern, -borne in the firm grasp of men-at-arms, and in a few moments a ruddy -light was thrown around the spot where stood the Duke. - -“Dog!” exclaimed the Duke, gazing hurriedly around--“Thou shalt bitterly -rue this foul treason.” - -He looked around in vain. His prisoner was gone, and with him had -disappeared the banner of the Winged Leopard. - -The light of torches again gleamed around the Mound of the Dead. The -figure of a maiden lay extended along the steps of stone, her white -robes waving round her insensible form--it was the Ladye Annabel. - -“Mighty Duke, behold the scroll!” shrieked the Doomsman, as he held -aloft the parchment, which he had taken from the cavern floor--“Behold -the scroll, it bears an inscription--read, read.” - - * * * * * - -“_Tyrant thrice--warned, yet unrelenting, the Invisible for the last -time bids thee prepare for the steel! Lo! Thy Death now walks abroad -seeking thee with the upraised axe,--beware his path!_” - - - - -CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. - -THE PAGE AND THE DAMSEL. - - -In a richly furnished ante-room, adjoining the bower of the Ladye -Annabel, on a couch of the most inviting softness, lay Guiseppo, -well-known to all the castle as the favorite page of his grace of -Florence. - -A lamp of the most elaborate moulding, suspended from the ceiling, threw -a brilliant light over the rose-colored tapestry that adorned the walls -and relieved the eye, gaily embroidered with the history of the -temptations of the blessed St. Anthony. Here forms of terror appalled, -and there shapes of beauty cheered the venerable saint, who was -distinguished by a nose of a very blooming hue, marking a face redolent -with the kiss of the wine-god. - -The floor of the apartment was carefully strewn with rushes, and here -and there were placed couches rivalling, in downy softness, the one on -which Guiseppo lay, while everything wore the appearance of ease and -luxury. - -The small, yet well-proportioned figure of the youth was arrayed in a -doublet of fine blue velvet, embroidered with gold, and brilliant with -jewelled chains, that hung depending from his neck. His well formed legs -were shown to the best advantage by hose of doe-skin, fitting close to -the person, and he wore boots of the same material, ornamented with -spurs of gold. His doublet was gathered about his waist by a belt that -shone with gold and jewels, and at his left side he wore a rare dagger, -with handle of ivory and sheath of gold. - -The features of Guiseppo were not formed after the regular line of manly -beauty, yet every lineament was redolent of light-hearted mirth and -gleesome mischief. His forehead was rather low, his eyebrows arching, -and his hazel eyes somewhat protruding; his nose was a thought too -large, his lips curving with a merry smile, his cheeks full and glowing, -and his rich brown hair fell in clustering locks down upon his collar of -rarest lace. - -He laid upon the couch in an easy position, his hazel eyes sparkling yet -more brightly, and his lip curving yet more merrily, as he gazed upon a -billet which he held in his right hand over his head. - -“To the fair Ladye Annabel,” thus he murmured to himself: “to be -delivered as soon as she recovers from her swoon--hum!” - -Here the page sprang suddenly up into a sitting posture. It seemed as if -some new thought had taken possession of his fancy. His eyes sparkled, -his lip curved, his cheek rounded, and his whole frame shook with -suppressed laughter. - -“Oh!” he exclaimed, as the tears came into his eyes; “Oh! ’twas -exquisite!” He gave his right leg an emphatic slap. “‘Twas -exquisite--exquisite--exquisite!” And laughing louder than ever, the -page walked up and down the apartment, well nigh bursting with repeated -fits of merriment. - -“Oh! St. Guiseppo!” he cried, “an’ I live to be an old man, I shall -never recover it! Ha--ha--ha!” - -Mayhap it was very fortunate for Guiseppo that the door leading into -Ladye Annabel’s apartment was opened, just at the moment when he seemed -about dissolving in his merriment. - -A lovely maiden, with dark eyes and jet black hair, entered the chamber, -with an angry look, as if to reprove the author of this boisterous -laughter; but no sooner did she behold Guiseppo than she rushed into his -arms, pronouncing his name at the same time, to which he very quietly -responded--“Rosalind!” accompanying the expression with a kiss. - -Having seated themselves upon a couch, Rosalind began to recall the -times of old, naming many a familiar scene, many a well-known spot, -where they had rambled together, ere Guiseppo left the castle--within -whose walls he had been reared--to be a page to his grace of Florence. - -As Rosalind rattled on, Guiseppo sat in mute admiration, much wondering -to behold the lively little child, whom he had left some two years -since, grown up into a handsome and budding damsel. He gazed with -peculiar admiration upon the boddice of green velvet, which fitted so -nicely, revealing the shape of one of the finest busts in the world--so -Guiseppo thought, at least. He also had some indefinite idea of the -prettiness of the cross of ebony, which, strung around her arching neck -by a chain of gold, rose and fell with the heavings of the maiden’s -bosom. - -The dimple of the chin--thought Guiseppo--is very pretty; those lips are -very tempting, but those beautiful, dancing, beaming black -eyes--Guiseppo rounded the sentence with a sigh. - -“I’faith, Guiseppo,” continued Rosalind, “your merriment, but a moment -ago, startled me with affright. You might have awaked my cousin, the -Ladye Annabel. She is sleeping after her fright in that dreadful vault. -Tell me, Guiseppo, what made you so merry?” - -The mirthful idea--whatever it was--again danced before the fancy of the -page, and he fell into a fit of laughter, interspersed with numerous -exclamations of delight. - -At last Rosalind wrung from him the cause of his mirth, which he told -somewhat after the following fashion. - - - - -CHAPTER THE NINTH. - -THE STORY OF GUISEPPO. - - -“On the day my young Lord--so I must still call him--was doomed to die -by the Duke and Lords of Florence, I felt very dull, and the brightest -piece of gold in the wide world would not have hired me to smile. And as -for laughing--St. Guiseppo, that came not with my thoughts! - -(Rosalind very quietly asked if nothing could have made him smile? He -pressed his lips to hers and did not dispute the matter any further.) - -“Being in this melancholy mood, I requested permission of my gracious -master the Duke, to visit Lord Adrian that night. My request was -granted. - -“It was but half an hour after midnight, that I stood at the door of the -Doomed Cell, where I learned, to my great regret, that the Duke had just -departed, leaving his commands that no one should see the prisoner until -morrow. There was an order of state affixed to the door to that effect, -having the private seal of the Duke impressed upon it. - -“No sooner had I perused this paper of state--thou knowest, Rosalind, -that I can both read and write--thanks to Count Aldarin, who taught me, -with much care and not a little pains--no sooner had I perused this -paper of state, then unslinging my cloak of blue velvet and silver -embroidery, I assumed all the pertness of a page at court, as I -cried--Stand aside, Sir Beetle-brow, and make room for my couch--and -you, gallant sir, of the squinting orb, be pleased to shift your lazy -carcass an inch or so, an’ it suits you. - -“The beetle-browed sentinel Balvardo, and his companion Hugo of the -sinister eye, looked upon me with the most unfeigned astonishment, as -throwing my cloak upon the stone pavement, I proceeded to lay my person -upon its bedizened folds.” - -“Well, Sir Malapert,” cried Balvardo, “thou art surely moonstruck. In -the fiend’s name what mean you by thus sprawling out upon the pavement, -like a cat near the end of her ninth life, eh, Sir Page?” - -Here Hugo chimed in with his say, consisting of a “by’r Lady!” expressed -in tones of the most interesting wonder, which he finished with a -“w-h-e-w!” given with twisted lips and great musical effect. - -“Why, noble Sir, of the bull-head,” I answered, “and right worthy Sir of -the Squinting Orb, I intend to watch the coming forth of my Lord Adrian, -an’ it please your lordships--and, as I wish to sleep, I will thank thee -Balvardo to turn thy ugly visage another way, for, an’ I shut my eyes -after looking at thee I’ll be certain to dream of half-a-dozen devils or -so. Hugo _do_ try and look straight ahead for only an instant, or the -warriors in my dreams will all be cross-eyed--by St. Guiseppo!” - -“‘Hist! thou magpie,’ exclaimed Hugo, ‘hear’st thou not a noise, -Balvardo?’” - -“The sound that rivetted Hugo’s ear, proceeded from the Doomed Cell, and -was certainly the most curious of all sounds. It was not exactly like -the mewing of a cat, neither did it altogether resemble the howling of a -cur and it certainly did not sound like the bellowing of a bull, or the -chattering of a magpie, yet in good sooth, it seemed as if all these -noises had been caught and put in a sack, and having been shaken well -together, produced the most infernal discord that ever saluted mortal -ear. - -“‘The Saints preserve us!’ shrieked Balvardo. ‘Surely the devil has -taken possession of the murderer--hark _how_ he howls!’ - -“‘_He_ indeed!’ cried Hugo, ‘it’s not only _he_; by’r Lady, there’s a -score of them. There it goes again. Beshrew thee but, ’tis like the howl -of a whipped cur--’ - -“‘Nay Hugo, nay Hugo, ’tis like the spitting and mewing of an hundred -cats.’ - -“‘Or the chattering of a score of magpies.’ - -“‘Now it bellows like a bull.’ - -“‘St. Peter be good to us!’ exclaimed Balvardo, as the howling grew -louder and louder. ‘It is the yelling of devils, and naught else. Hark! -Didst ever hear such a horrible noise, Sir Page?’ - -“I answered his question by repeated bursts of laughter; for although my -heart was full heavy at the fate of Adrian Di Albarone, yet for my soul -I could not hear such whimsical sounds without giving full rein to my -laughing humor. - -“Suddenly the noise ceased. In an instant a voice shouted from the -inside of the Cell--‘Ho! guards, without there! guards!’ - -“I was thunderstruck at the tones of this voice, which I at once knew -could not belong to the Doomed Adrian. - -“‘Well!’ exclaimed Balvardo, ‘if the devil hasn’t stolen the voice of -our gracious Lord the Duke!’” - -Hugo pursed up his lips and gave his musical “whew!” which intended to -express astonishment itself astonished. - -“‘W-h-e-w!--By’r Lady, but the devil _does_ speak in the voice of our -Lord the Duke.’ - -“‘_I am the Duke of Florence!_’--shouted the voice from the cell. ‘Open -the door, ye slaves!’ - -“‘Avoid the Sathanas!’ quoth Balvardo. - -“‘Be quiet, fiend!’ cried Hugo. - -“Exquisite sport--exquisite!” muttered I to myself, as a curious idea -flitted through my brain, “Ho--ho--ho! The Duke of Florence locked up in -one of his own prisons! Ha--ha--ha!” - -“Louder rose the voice within the cell, and louder and fiercer swelled -the exclamations of the sentinels; until having strained every bone in -my body, with excessive laughter, I fell asleep thro’ mere weariness. - -“When I awoke, the first beams of morning were streaming along the -prison galleries, and engaged in earnest converse with Hugo and Balvardo -stood the ill-looking, wry-mouthed, and hump backed Doomsman of -Florence. - -“‘The irons are hot, and the wheel is ready,’ said the deformed caitiff, -bring your prisoner forth. The cauldron of lead is hissing and seething -while it awaits his coming. ’Tis long since I’ve tried my hand upon one -of noble blood. Bring forth this noble boy, and let me see what mettle -his flesh is made of. Thanks, Balvardo--thanks, Hugo, for ’twas ye that -gave him to the Doomsman!’ - -“Here the villain performed several very graceful actions, such as tying -an imaginary knot around his neck, with a ‘chick’, and then rehearsing -in dumb show the whole process of punishment upon the wheel; concluding -with an animated waving, pushing and thrusting of his hands, descriptive -of the entire manner of disemboweling. - -“And this, this was to be the fate of Adrian Lord of Albarone! - -“Meanwhile Hugo had unlocked the door of the Doomed Cell, and, called -the name of the prisoner without receiving an answer. - -“‘I’ll wake him,’ quoth the Doomsman, entering the cell; ‘see! he lays -flat upon his face. Get up, Sir Parricide; get up. There--there,’ he -concluded, bestowing a few kicks upon the prostrate occupant of the -cell. - -“The prisoner replied with a groan. - -“‘Ho! ho!--You will not stir, will you?’ continued the Doomsman, as he -dragged the prisoner from the cell into the gallery:--‘See, Hugo, how -the caitiff’s hat is slouched over his face, and his hands are bound -with his own belt. By St. Judas, this is a rare sight!’ - -“‘His hands bound!’ exclaimed Balvardo. ‘This is not my work!’ - -“‘Nor mine!’ responded Hugo. - -“‘Remove his slouched hat, one of ye,’ exclaimed the Doomsman, ‘see ye -not that both of my hands are employed in holding his carcass.’ - -“Hugo reached forth his hand and removed his slouched hat--‘O! an’ I -live till fourscore, I’ll never forget the scene that followed.’ - -“There, his arms ignominiously bound, resting in the embrace of the -Doomsman, lay the Duke of Florence, his face pale with ire, his mouth -frothing like a madman’s, and his eyes bloodshot; and there stood the -Doomsman, his gray eyes protruding with astonishment, until they seemed -about to drop from their sockets, his mouth agape and his tongue lolling -out upon his bearded chin; and there, likewise, stood Hugo and Balvardo, -looking first at one another, then at the Duke, and then clasping their -hands, they fall upon their knees and screaming for mercy--and there in -the back-ground, his cloak muffled over his face, and his frame shaking -with laughter while his eyes run over with tears of mirth, stands his -grace’s page, the trim Guiseppo. Was’t not a rich scene, Rosalind?” - - - - -CHAPTER THE TENTH. - -THE MEMORY OF GUILT. - - -On the stately couch in the Red-Chamber, with the Count Aldarin bending -over him, lay his Grace the Duke of Florence, attired in his boots and -hose, with his under shirt thrown back, revealing the left shoulder of -the Prince laid open in a deep gash. - -As the Count Aldarin, holding a light in one hand peered earnestly at -the wound, the Duke exclaimed-- - -“A horrid gash, Count? eh! Damnation! to be foiled by the villain -twice--bound in my own dungeon like a criminal--struck down in that -cursed cavern like a dog--damnation seize the--ah! Count, some wine; for -the Saint’s sake, some wine, I pray thee.” - -The Count turned hurriedly to the beaufet, and filling a goblet with -wine that sparkled in the light with a ruddy glow, he hastened to give -it to the wounded Duke, who raised it until it nearly touched his lips, -when, as if struck by a strange fancy, he suddenly held it out at arm’s -length exclaiming as he gazed at Aldarin with a lack-lustre eye-- - -“I say Count, suppose there should be some _white dust_ at the bottom of -this goblet?--and--and--_a ring_? eh? Count?--Ugh!--Take it away--ugh!” - -He flung the goblet from him, scattering the wine over the couch, while -the vessel rolled clanging over the marble floor. - -“How SIR?” cried the Count, speaking in a deep-toned voice that thrilled -to the very heart of the Duke, “_what mean’st thou_?” The dark gray eyes -of the Scholar flashed like living coals of fire, as he spoke. - -“O, nothing,” responded the Duke, “nothing--only I thought the murderer -Adrian might--dost understand? A truce to all this. My Lord Count, what -didst thou with those men-at-arms who raised their swords in the cause -of the murderer?” - -Right glad was the Count Aldarin to recover his usual calm demeanour as -he answered this inquiry. - -“Of the fifty treacherous caitiffs who raised their swords against the -person of your grace, forty lie bleeding and dead upon the cavern floor. - -“As for the others--” he finished the sentence by pointing to the arched -window of the Red-Chamber. - -The Duke looked over his shoulder and beheld through the opened window -the black and gloomy timbers of a gibbet towering like an evil omen high -over the walls of the castle, and backed by the soft azure of a -cloudless summer night. - -The beams of the moon fell upon ten ghastly and death-writhen faces and -ten figures swung to and fro, while the groaning cords as they grated -against the creaking timbers over their heads, seemed shaking their -death wail. - -“Curse the traitors--they have their deserts!” The Duke exclaimed with a -meaning smile. - -The Count said nothing, but bending over the form of the Prince -proceeded to dress his wounded shoulder, after the manner prescribed by -his scholarly studies. - -And as the Scholar bent over the form of the Duke, the hangings of the -couch, sweeping beside the Prince, waved to and fro, with a slight -motion, as though the summer breeze disturbed their folds, and a dark -form, robed in garments of sable, with a monkish cowl dropping over its -face, glided noiselessly along the floor, and in a moment stood at the -back of his Grace of Florence, holding aloft, above his very head, a -slender-bladed and glittering dagger. - -The Figure stood silent and immoveable, its face shrouded and its form -robed from view, the dagger glittering above the head of the Duke, -brilliant as a spiral flame, while the light of the lamp held by -Aldarin, shone on the upraised hand, revealing the sinews, stretched to -their utmost tension, while the clutched fingers prepared to strike the -blow of death. - -And at the very instant, as the Figure of Sable emerged from the -hangings of the couch, at the back of the Prince, there silently strode -from the folds of the tapestry on the other side of the bed, a veiled -form, clad from head to foot, in a robe of ghostly white. - -While the Figure in garments of sable, raised the dagger above the head -of the Duke, the strange Form, arrayed in the sweeping robe of white, -disappeared behind the hangings of the couch, on the side opposite the -Scholar Aldarin. - -“Curse the traitors--they have their deserts!” again exclaimed the Duke. -“Count, how succeeds my suit with the Ladye Annabel? Dost think she -affects me? Eh, Count?” - -“Marry, does, my Lord Duke--this slight wound in thy shoulder will -detain thee at the castle for a few days. Thou wilt have every -opportunity to urge thy suit, and, and--the day of your nuptials shall -be named whenever thou dost wish!” - -And as Aldarin spoke, the knife rose glittering in the hands of the -Sable Figure, and a pale face, marked by the glare of a wild and -flashing eye, was thrust from the folds of the robe of black. It was the -face of Albertine. - -“Now, by St. Antonia, but that is pleasant to think of,” exclaimed the -Duke, as, complacently surveying his figure, he passed his hand over his -bearded chin and whiskered lip--“as thou wishest me to name the day, my -Lord Count, be assured, I shall not return to Florence without being -accompanied by my fair bride--_Ladye Annabel Duchess of Florence_. It -sounds well--eh, Count?” - -A smile passed over the compressed lips of the Count, and a glance of -wild joy lit up his piercing eyes, as he thought of the fulfillment of -the dream of ambition that had haunted his soul for years. - -“It does indeed sound well, my Lord Duke,” he calmly replied, as he -proceeded in his employment of dressing the wound. There was a pause for -a moment, a strange, dread pause, while the hands of the Sable Figure -trembled, as though Albertine, was nerving his soul for the work of -death. - -“My Lord Count, how curious it seems? eh? Count?” exclaimed the Duke in -a tone of vacant wonder. - -“To what does your Grace refer?” answered the Count. - -“Why, Count, but three short days ago, upon this very couch lay your -gallant brother; here he folded to his arms his Adrian. Now that very -son is a--murderer--a parricide. I rest upon the very couch that -supported the murdered remains of the late Count, and thou, Aldarin, his -brother--” - -“HIS MURDERER!” exclaimed a voice that thrilled to the very heart of -Aldarin, and made the Duke start with terror. - -And as he started the knife came hissing through the air, it grazed the -robe of the Duke, it sank to the very hilt in the death couch. - -The start of the Duke saved him from the steel. - -“Eh! Count, what’s that? Who spoke? eh?” The eyes of the Count -distended, and his lips parted with affright as he spoke. - -The Count looked up and beheld a sight that froze his very blood. - -On the opposite side of the bed, among the crimson hangings, stood a -figure robed in white, and there, two eyes, blazing like fire-coals, -from beneath the deathly pallor of a half-veiled brow, looked steadily -upon the trembling Aldarin. - -The cheeks of that pale countenance were dug into fearful hollows, and -the eyes were surrounded by circles of livid blue. - -The Count gazed with intense horror at this apparition and the Sable -Figure, who had hurriedly stooped, in the effort to wrench the dagger -from the couch, with a noiseless grasp, looked up and started hastily -backward as his eye rested upon the ghastly face, appearing amid the -hangings in the opposite side of the bed. - -“It is the face of the dead”--muttered Albertine, gliding hurriedly -toward his place of concealment while the Duke was absorbed by the -awe-stricken visage of Aldarin, whose very soul seemed starting from his -eyes as he gazed upon the apparition--“It is the face of the dead--The -time of the Betrayer hath not yet come!” - -And as he spoke he disappeared, without being observed by either the -Duke or Aldarin, while the Scholar, beheld the curtains on the opposite -side of the couch rustling to and fro--he looked and the Spectre was -gone. - -“This is some vile trick!” cried Aldarin, grasping the sword of the Duke -from the couch as he spoke. “Let the mummers, whoe’er they are, beware -the vengeance of the Scholar!” - -He rushed to the other side of the couch, he lifted the hangings, but -discovered no one. With a hurried step, he turned to the tapestry that -adorned the walls, and thrust aside the embroidered, folds. The secret -door was closed, and he beheld neither sign nor mark, that might tell of -aught concealed within its pannels. - -And as Aldarin continued his hurried search, the Duke leaning back on -the couch, felt some hard substance pressing against his side. Thrusting -his hand along the couch, he felt the handle of a dagger, thrust from -its resting place, and with a trembling arm, held the steel aloft in the -light. - -“It bears an inscription--Saints of Heaven, let me read-- - - ‘THE VENGEANCE OF THE MONKS OF THE HOLY STEEL.’” - -And at the same moment, the Count Aldarin, leaned trembling against a -pillar for support, and quaking in every nerve, one fearful thought -possessed his soul as he murmured in a hollow whisper. - -“_Haunted, forever haunted--by thy gloomy shade, my murdered -brother!_” - - - - -BOOK THE THIRD. - -THE LAST NIGHT OF THRICE SEVEN YEARS. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIRST. - -THE MAIDEN IN HER BOWER. - -ALDARIN PICTURES TO THE LADYE ANNABEL THE GLORIES OF A LIVING-TOMB. - - -A lamp of alabaster, placed upon a small table of ebony, beside which -was seated the Ladye Annabel, threw its softened beams around the -apartment, and leaving the hangings, the stately bed, and the luxurious -couches, wrapt in twilight shadow, cast a lovelier tint upon a vase of -flowers standing upon the table, and revealed the fair maiden’s -countenance and figure in soft and rosy light. - -Her flaxen tresses, unrestrained by band or cincture, fell in a golden -shower over her delicate neck and finely-turned shoulders; and streaming -along the full and swelling bosom, but half concealed by the bodice of -white, bordered by finest lace, they flowed soft and waving down to her -very feet. - -The figure of the Ladye Annabel realized an old saying, that nature -shows all her art, and lavishes the richest of her beauties, upon her -smallest creations. - -In form slight and delicate, in stature somewhat below the usual size, -the proportions of Annabel were of the most exquisite tracery of -outline. Her arms, full and softly rounded, were terminated by hands -small and white, with tapering fingers; her feet, thin and slender, and -marked by an high instep, supported ancles as finely turned, as the -movements of the maiden were light and graceful; the well-proportioned -waist arose in lovely gradation into the bosom of rich and budding -promise; the neck, gently arching, and graceful in every attitude, -blended sweetly into the small and half dimpling chin, that harmonized -with the face of loveliness and soul. - -“Right beauteous shone those eyes of blue,” says the chronicler of the -ancient MS., “glancing pure thoughts and light-hearted fancies; and -right lovely were those glowing cheeks, in which the snow-white of the -fair countenance bloomed into a roseate hue; and lovely was the small -mouth of parting lips, delicious in their maiden ripeness; and sweet, -surpassing sweet, was the expression of that face, where love and -innocence beaming from every feature, seemed like the golden fruit of -fairy land, only waiting to be gathered.” - -Her face was a poem, written by the finger of God, in characters of -youth and bloom. - -A poem whose theme was ever beauty and love, speaking its meaning -through the deep glance of a shadowy eye, sending forth its messages of -sweetness from the smile of the wreathing lip, or preaching its lessons -of thought and purity by the calm glory of the unclouded brow. - -A face lovely as a dream, when dreams are loveliest, with an outline of -youth and bloom, a brow clear, calm, and cloudless, over-arching the -eyes of azure, whose brightness seemed unfathomable; with full and -swelling cheeks, varying the snow-white of the maiden’s countenance by -the damask of the budding rose; a small mouth, with curving lips; a chin -all roundness and dimple, receding with a waving outline into the neck, -all lightness and grace; while all around, the luxuriance of her golden -hair, unbound and uncinctured, fell sweeping and waving, with a soft, -airy motion, through the sunbeams shimmered round the fairy countenance -of the maiden. - -Alone in her bower sate the Ladye Annabel, her lip curving with scorn -while she glanced at the letter of his grace of Florence, as it was -flung along the floor, unopened and unheeded. - -Her soul was agitated by the fearful memory of the last three days of -mystery and blood, and then came confused and wandering thoughts of the -scenes she had witnessed but an hour since, in the cavern of the dead. - -Her mind was lost in a maze of never-ending doubts, when she -contemplated the fearful death of the late Count. - -She had never for an instant believed that Adrian could be guilty of the -accursed act, neither had she dreamed that it was her father’s hand that -dealt the blow. - -The thought would have driven her mad. - -Suddenly her thoughts were agitated by a fearful picture. - -She saw Adrian stretched bleeding and dead upon the wheel--his limbs -severed and torn, and his brow scarred by the instruments of torture, -while the doomsman’s laugh rang in her ears. As the picture grew upon -her mind in all its horrible details:--the glazed eye and the writhen -lip, the chest heaving with the convulsive sobs of death, and the throat -straining with the death rattle,--the maiden covered her face with her -hands, and shrieked: - -“Save me, holy Mary, save me from these fearful fancies!” - -And as she spoke, the maiden burst into a flood of tears. - -“_Annabel!_” whispered a voice at once deep-toned and full of affection. - -She looked up, and her father, the Count Aldarin, stood before her. - -“My daughter,” he continued, drawing a seat beside her, “how dost thou -like these?” - -He opened a casket which he held in his hand, and the light of the -alabaster lamp flashed upon ornaments of gold and silver, such as might -not shame a queen to wear. - -There were bracelets for the wrists, there were chains for the arching -neck, gems for the brow, pearls to be woven in the flowing hair; and as -their bright and star-like blaze met the eye of the Ladye Annabel, she -gave utterance to a cry of delight. - -“I thank thee, father, I thank thee!” she exclaimed, as, clasping a -bracelet of gold, bordered by pearls, around her fair and well-rounded -wrist, she received it with a glance of admiration. “See, father, see! -How beauteous are those pearls, how bright that gold, and the shape--how -exquisite! O! father, this is kind of thee! ’Tis indeed a rich gift!” - -“_It is a bridal gift!_” exclaimed the Count, in a low and quiet tone, -and with his eyes fixed upon his daughter’s countenance, as if to note -each varying expression of the fair and lovely features. - -Annabel started as if an adder had stung her. - -“A bridal gift? Said you not so? A bridal gift? From whom is it, my -father?” - -“His grace, the Duke of Florence, sends thee this rare and costly -present. He sends it with his ardent wishes for thy health. He sends -these jewels with the hope that ere three days have run their sands, he -may behold them shining on the brow of his fair bride--the Ladye -Annabel, Duchess of Florence.” - -As in a calm and determined tone he spoke these words, a deadly paleness -came over the damsel’s face; her lips dropped apart, and her fair blue -eyes distended with a vacant look, the slender fingers of each hand -slowly straightened, unclasping their grasp of the casket, which fell -heavily to the floor, as her arms dropped listlessly by her side. - -The old man surveyed his child for an instant with a look which told of -his deep, his yearning affection, combined with the strange fancies -ruling his destiny through life. In an instant he again spoke, and his -voice, as it came from the depths of his chest, sounded wild and -thrilling to the maiden’s ear. - -“_My daughter!_” said he, taking her by the hand, “_thou shall wed this -man!_” - -Annabel replied not. - -“Thou shalt, I say, wed the Lord of Florence. It must be so; therefore -it were well that thou dost prepare thee for the bridal. I say it shall -be so, my daughter. The word of Aldarin is passed!” - -“Father,” replied the Ladye Annabel, in tremulous tones; “father, O! -look not so sternly at me, your eyes chill my very heart. I would do -your bidding--the Virgin and all the saints witness me, I would--but, -father--” - -“Annabel,” said the Count, in his deep tones of enthusiasm, “I have said -it, and it shall be so. Wed the Duke of Florence, and behold thyself -a--queen! All that heart can wish, or the wildest fancy desires, shalt -thou possess, and claim as thine own. Wealth shall lavish its stores -around thee, and honor shall bring the fairest and the noblest to bow -low at the feet of the Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence. - -“Lo! thou art in the ducal hall of Florence: behold thyself encircled by -the gay and glittering throng; a thousand eyes are fixed upon thee in -admiration, a thousand tongues speak their words of eloquence but to -syllable that admiration, and a thousand swords, flashing in the light, -are slaves to the slightest word of Ladye Annabel--the queen. - -“The robes of a queen shall gird this lovely form, the stars of a -coronet shall flash from that beauteous brow, and this fair hand, so -beautiful in its alabaster whiteness, shall wave the sceptre over the -heads of kneeling myriads! With a queenly port and a flashing eye, thou -shalt look around thee, and behold the princely halls illumined by -lamps, diffusing at once both light, soft as moonbeams, and fragrance -sweeter than the breath of spring flowers. The lofty windows, with their -rare carvings, shall give to view gardens rich with golden fruit, won -from the far lands of the East, fragrant with shrubbery and gay with -flowers, while ancient trees, in leafy magnificence, sweep their arching -bows overhead. Fountains fling their columns of liquid diamonds up from -the arbored paths, lulling waterfalls soothe the ear, distant music -wakes delightful visions in the soul, solemn palaces, in all their -grandeur of outline, break through the air of night! Palaces, gardens, -unbounded wealth, rank, pride, place, honor--all, all shall be thine -own!” - -“All, my father, all--all--but love.” - -As Annabel spoke, her eyes filled with tears, and her voice was choked -with the sobs that convulsed her bosom. - -To say that the picture of the Count had no effect upon the maiden, -would be uttering an absurd and unnatural fiction. In bright and glowing -colors arose the gorgeous pageantry before the mind of Annabel: it was -all saith the Chronicler of the ancient MSS.--it was all that a woman -could wish, the fruition of a woman’s most ardent aspiration. With -Adrian, the companion of her childhood, the princely palace would have -been like an abode of fairy land; with the Duke, it would have been a -tomb--a golden sepulchre for the living-dead. - -The answer of Aldarin was contemptuous and bitter. - -“_Love!_--a dream--a phantom--a bubble!--_Love_, forsooth! the vision of -warm-blooded youth, which all have felt, and none but fools obey, Girl,” -continued he, “I have said that thou shouldst wed the Duke, and--by my -soul!--_thou shalt wed him_! My word--the word of Aldarin--is passed. -Think not to deceive _me_. I know thy motive in thus setting the bidding -of a father at defiance. It is because thou dost affect the murderer of -my only brother,--of thy kind uncle,--the PARRICIDE, Adrian--” - -“O! father, he cannot--cannot be the doer of so dread a crime.” - -“Who, then,” exclaimed the Count, bitterly, “who then was the doer of so -dread a crime? Speak, my fair daughter, _who_ was’t?” - -“IT WAS THOU! THOU! ALDARIN THE SCHOLAR!” exclaimed a voice that sounded -strange and hollow through the lonely apartment. - -“Holy Mary, preserve us!” shrieked Annabel. “Father, whence came that -fearful voice?” - -The Count Aldarin replied not. The convulsive motion that heaved his -breast, and strained the lineaments of his countenance, showed that he -was making a desperate attempt to command his soul. - -“‘Tis naught, my daughter,” he began; “‘tis fancy--’tis--” - -He finished the sentence by a howl of horror, that might have been -uttered by a lost soul. Annabel beheld him gazing fixedly at some object -behind her. She turned her head and saw a vision that drove the life -current back from her heart. - -A figure arrayed in the snow-white attire of the grave, looked with a -pale and ghastly countenance, and hollow eyes, from among the folds of -the crimson tapestry on the opposite side of the apartment. - -With freezing blood, Annabel beheld the figure advance with a slow and -measured step towards her. Her consciousness failed, and she fell -insensible on the floor, at the same instant that Aldarin sank down with -a yell of despair, while his mouth frothed, and his eyes glared like -those of a maniac. - -On toward the light advanced the figure in white. - -In a moment it stood beside the prostrate forms of the father and child, -and having gazed at them for an instant, it threw back the robe from its -head, and the beams of the lamp flashed over the wan and ghastly face of -the strange figure. - -“Ha--ha--ha!” he laughed, in tones sepulchral with famine, “methinks -I’ve frightened the old caitiff enow! O, St. Withold! but I do feel this -fiend, Hunger, gnawing with its serpent teeth at my very heart! Nothing -to eat for three days and as many nights! And this hand--half-severed at -the finger joints--throbbing with pain all the while! Thanks to the hard -lessons of a soldier’s life, that taught me to wrap this rough bandage -round the wound! Had it been my good right hand--St. Withold!--Robin had -been a dead man three days ago! True, I did make out to crawl toward one -of the dead soldiers in the cavern. How sweetly the wine in his flask -gurgled down my parched throat! I am faint with lack of food. By a -soldier’s faith, I could eat a whole ox! St. Withold, an’ I do not get -some nourishment in the shortest time possible, I may as well wrap me up -in this pall, so as to be ready for burial! Ugh! the priest shall not -say his prayers over thee yet, my friend Robin; courage.” - -Having first divested himself of the funeral pall of the late lord, the -famished soldier strode across the apartment, and opening the door that -led into the ante chamber, he discovered Guiseppo and Rosalind seated -upon one of the couches, apparently in the most amiable humor with each -other. - -“Look ye, sir page,” exclaimed Robin, as he showed his wan and wasted -features through the opened door, “an’ ye stir not yourself right -quickly, your master will be dead; and, fair damsel, the same may be -said of your mistress, the Ladye Annabel.” - -Rosalind shrieked with affright at the hollow voice and shrunken figure -of the bold yeoman, and Guiseppo sprang with one bound from the couch -half way across the apartment. - -“Fear not, Rosalind,” he cried, drawing his dagger. “If it be a devil, I -defy it in God’s name; and if it be a man why I will try what this good -steel can do.” - -“Tut, tut,” exclaimed Robin, “put up your cheese-knife boy. Come hither. -Know you me not?” - -“No more than I do the devil.” - -“Mayhap then, fair Sir, you have heard of a _certain youth_, who on the -night before he departed from the castle--the castle where his infancy -had been passed--to be a page at court, took occasion to pour a sleeping -potion into the wine of a _certain yeoman_; and then shaving one side of -the yeoman’s face; concluded by tying a dead cat around his neck, thus -making an honest soldier a mock of laughter for all the castle. Did’st -ever hear of such a page? Eh? Guiseppo?” - -“Why the Virgin bless me,” exclaimed Rosalind, “It’s Rough Robin!” - -“Eh?” cried the page with a stare of astonishment. - -“If you value your life, Guiseppo,” continued the yeoman; “Hie away, and -bring me a dozen flasks of wine or so, and a round of beef. Speak not a -word, but haste away. I am nigh starved to death, and the devil may -tempt me to cut a slice from the trim figure of a certain page; away!” - -As Guiseppo left the apartment, Rosalind asked the bold yeoman where he -had been for the last three days, and wherefore he looked so much like a -ghost risen from the dead merely for its own amusement. - -“_My lord the Count Aldarin_,” replied Robin with a grim smile, -“_despatched me--upon a long journey, to arrange matters of business -entirely relating to himself._” - -Having thus spoken, he again entered the bower of the Ladye Annabel, and -laying hold of the senseless body of Aldarin, he dragged him into the -ante-chamber, and then returned to assist the damsel Rosalind in the -recovery of her mistress. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SECOND. - -THE LADY AND THE YEOMAN. - - -When the Ladye Annabel opened her fair blue eyes, she gazed hurriedly -around the apartment until her glance was met by that of the bold -yeoman. She gave a faint scream, and her form trembled with affright. - -“St. Withold!” exclaimed the yeoman--“but I do seem to frighten every -one that looks at me, into fits. Fear me not, Ladye Annabel--’Tis -I--Rough Robin--I would speak a few words to thee. The import of what I -have to say is of a fearful nature.” - -“Ah!” said Annabel, “of what would you speak?” - -Robin whispered a word in her ear. - -The maiden gave a convulsive start. She clasped her hands and looked -wildly in the yeoman’s face, as she exclaimed-- - -“How was’t done!--The doer of this deed--who was’t?” - -“Pardon me, Lady. For three long days and nights have I been without -sustenance--I am faint--my brain burns, and mine hands tremble.” - -The Ladye Annabel made a sign to Rosalind, who was leaving the room, -when she was met at the door by Guiseppo, bearing a wine flask in one -hand, while the other supported a dish containing the fragments of a -venison pasty. - -“Bold Robin,” said Guiseppo, “I contrived to abstract these from the -wine cellar and the kitchen, without being noticed. I thought your -business might require secrecy.” - -“Thanks, Sir Page, thanks--and now,” continued the yeoman--“an’ thou -lovest thy Lord Adrian, wait in the ante-chamber, and see that no one -enters. Fair Rosalind, I am waiting to close the door.” - -As he said this he gently pushed the damsel through the doorway, and -carefully drawing the bolt he seated himself opposite Annabel. He then -placed the pasty on his knee, and with a trembling hand filled a silver -goblet to the very brim with wine. With all the nervous eagerness of -famine, he lifted the capacious vessel to his lips, when he beheld a -pale, cadaverous, spectre-like face dancing in the ruddy glow of the -wine. - -“St. Withold! ’Tis no wonder I have scared every body with my dried up -visage!” He drained the goblet to the last drop. “S’ death I’m -frightened at that death’s head myself.” - -He then plunged one hand into the pasty, and raising a piece of the rich -crust, he devoured it in an instant; then lifting the flask to his -mouth, he poured the luscious liquid down his throat, and his sinews and -veins began to rise and swell, a ruddy glow ran over his ashy face, -while the supernatural brightness of his eyes, gave place to a healthy, -twinkling glance. - -There was a pause of some ten minutes. - -“St. Withold! but I thank thee!” cried the yeoman, as his eyes filled -with a liquid which bore a strange resemblance to tears of joy--“Holy -Mary, Holy Peter, and Holy Paul, ye shall have a wax candle apiece; -instead of one to all of ye!” - -The Ladye Annabel who had watched his movements with the greatest -impatience, now exclaimed-- - -“For heaven’s sake, good Robin, speak. What dost thou know of the -fearful deed”--she looked hurriedly around the room--“_Of the murder?_” - -“Ladye” replied the yeoman, “I’m a rough, blunt soldier--I know little -of courtly manners, but so help me St. Withold, I would peril--I would -sacrifice my life, to serve thee and--Lord Adrian--” - -“Adrian? What knowest thou of Adrian? For heaven’s sake speak.” Her very -soul glanced from her eyes as she continued.--“Oh, God! thou surely wilt -not say that he--Adrian--is--is--THE MURDERER?” - -“St. Withold!” muttered Robin, “but I have got myself into a nice -predicament. Ladye I would say no such falsehood.” - -“It is a falsehood then?--Thanks--Holy Mary, from my soul, unfeigned -thanks?” - -“It is not Adrian: but Ladye--heaven help thee to bear it--the murderer -is one who is mayhap as beloved of thee, as is Lord Adrian.” - -“_One as beloved?_” murmured Annabel--“surely there is no one as beloved -as Adrian, no one save my father. Thou triflest with me, Robin.” - -“Nay Ladye I trifle not--again I say it is _the_ one who is as dear to -thee as Lord Adrian.” - -One word came from the maiden’s lips. - -“MY FATHER--” she shrieked, as if some awful thought had riven her -brain. - -She said never a word more, but her bosom which a moment past rose and -fell convulsively, now became stilled; the excited flush of her cheeks -died away into an ashy paleness, her lip lost its eager expression, her -eyelids closed stiffly, and she fell heavily as a corse from her seat. - -Robin sprang forward and extended his arms in time to prevent her from -falling to the floor. - -“I am a very fool,” he said, bitterly reproaching himself--“a dolt, an -idiot--a mere wearer of the motley doublet--a jingler of the belled cap -would have known better. St. Withold, but _I am_ an ass!” - -Having his own reasons for not calling assistance from the ante-room, he -used all kinds of expedients to restore the Ladye Annabel to -consciousness. He chafed the fair and delicate hands, he deluged the -brow as white as snow, with perfumed liquids contained in silver flagons -standing upon the table; and after a lapse of a quarter of an hour he -had the gratification of seeing her eyes unclose, and feeling her heart -beat as he held her form in his arms. - -The Ladye Annabel faintly spoke--“I have had a fearful--fearful dream. -The Virgin save me from the dark spirits that inspire such fancies. I -thought of _thee_--of _thee_, my father!” - -She paused suddenly as she caught a view of the yeoman’s face. - -“_Thou_ here!” she exclaimed in surprise, “wherefore is this?” - -“St. Withold!” muttered the confused Robin, fearful of again referring -to the late subject of horror. “Why Ladye, in truth I am here--because I -am--not here--that is to say--s’death Ladye, I came here to serve ye.” - -“To serve _me_?” said Annabel wonderingly, “how wouldst thou serve -_me_?” - -“Ladye,” cried the yeoman in utter despair of his ability to convey his -ideas in a circuitous manner. “Ladye would you wed this Duke of -Florence?” - -“Sooner would I die!” - -“How will you avoid the bridal?” - -“God only knows,” said Annabel, as she stood erect, “to his care do I -confide myself. I have read legends of dames and damsels who have raised -the dagger against their own lives when terrors such as threaten me, -rose before their eyes,--but I cannot--cannot do it! All I can do”--and -her head sunk low upon her bosom, and her arms drooped by her side--“all -I can do is, to pray, earnestly pray; upon my bended knees _beseech_ the -Virgin that I may _die_!” - -“Cheer thee up, fair ladye--cheer thee up,” thus Robin spoke, “by the -troth of an honest soldier, I swear that I will be near thee when the -hour of thy peril draws nigh. I swear that my life shall be sacrificed -to save thee!--And now I must be gone. This castle can no longer be -Rough Robin’s home. God be with ye!” - -The Ladye Annabel placed a purse of gold in Robin’s hand, and with many -blessings on his head, she beheld him disappear into the ante-room. - -Rosalind entered the room--Annabel exclaimed-- - -“Retire for a little while, fair coz: I would be alone.” - -As the black-eyed maiden retired, the Ladye Annabel sank down into a -seat, and gave herself up to the wild and agitating thoughts that -flashed through her brain. - -The first beams of the coming morn shot through the tapestry that well -nigh concealed the casement of the maiden’s bower. - -Annabel had fallen into a welcome slumber, and the soft beams of the -lamp fell upon her calm and innocent face, revealing each feature in the -mildest light, and softest shade. - -A figure emerged from the tapestry, and advanced to the light, Adrian -stood beside the sleeping maiden. His face was exceedingly pale and -covered with blood, as also was the helmet, and the plates of the armor -of azure steel. In one hand he grasped the furled banner of the Winged -Leopard. - -He turned and sought his place of concealment with a heavy heart; but -ere he turned, he cast one deep, one agonizing look upon the lovely -maiden. - -“She is happy!--my wrongs shall not disturb her innocent -soul--Farewell--my own loved--Annabel--farewell.” - -A kiss that told of heart-felt affection he impressed upon her ruby -lips, and as he took a last fond, ardent gaze, a burning tear fell upon -the unstained cheek of the Ladye Annabel. - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRD. - -THE VALLEY OF THE BOWL. - -THE SCENE CHANGES TO THE MOUNTAIN LAKE, WHERE THE TRAGEDY OF THE HOUSE -OF ALBARONE WILL AT LAST COME TO AN END. - - -Far away among the mountains, the sunlight loves to linger, and the -moonbeam is wont to dwell among the quiet recesses of a lovely valley, -over-shadowed by rugged steeps, that frown above and darken around a -calm and silvery lake, embosomed amid the solitudes of the wild forest -hills. - -Around on every side, arise the hills, magnificent with the shade of the -sombre pine, leafy with the branching oak, or verdant with the -luxuriance of the green chestnut tree, while chasms yawn in the -sunlight, ravines darken and fearful rocks, bear and rugged in their -outline, tower far above the forest trees, away into the clear azure of -the summer sky. - -The hills sweep round the valley in a circular form, describing the -outlines of the sides of a drinking goblet, while far below, the limpid -waters of the lake, repose in the depths of this collossal vessel, -giving a clue to the strange name of this place of solitude--THE VALLEY -OF THE BOWL. - -This quiet vale is situated some few miles from Florence, amid the same -wild range of mountains that encircle the haunt of the members of the -Holy Steel. - -The light of the summer morning sun, was streaming gaily over the roofs -of a mountain hamlet, clustered beside the shores of the lake, flinging -its golden beams over the outline of each rugged hut, with tottering -walls, or rustic tenement, with its ancient stones overgrown with leafy -vines; when a group of peasants were gathered along the road-side, at -some small distance from the village, in earnest and energetic -conversation. - -A short, thick-set and bow-legged youth, clad in the garish apparel of a -Postillion[2] of the olden times, stood in the centre of the group, -while around him were clustered a circle of the buxom mountain damsels, -with their heads inclined towards each other, their arms and hands -moving in animated gestures, as a boisterous chorus broke on the air, -from the glib prattling of their busy tongues. - -“Now, Dolabella,” said the young man to a tall, black-eyed, dark-haired -damsel, of a very swarthy skin; “now, Dolabella, it’s in vain you try to -make a fool of me. I don’t believe any such thing--that’s all.” - -Having thus spoken, he searched earnestly with his finger along his -chin, and at last discovered a starved fragment of beard, which he -pulled with great gravity, at the same time looking intently upwards, as -if bent on discovering the evening star in broad day-light. - -“Well! our Lady take care of your wits, good Signor Rattlebrain,” thus -answered the buxom Dolabella, “whether you believe it or not, makes not -a whit of difference to me. But I tell you, Theresa, and you, Loretta, -that last night, just about dark, as I was walking near yon cottage on -the hill, with a beech tree on one side, and a chestnut on the other--” - -“What!” interrupted the small, hazed-eyed Loretta, “mean you the cottage -which the tall, strange old woman hired but yesterday?” - -“The very same. Well, just as I was walking there, all alone, I heard a -footstep!--” - -“Our Lady!” exclaimed Theresa, who was distinguished by her hair of -glowing red. - -“Our Lady!--but you do not say so?” exclaimed the other. - -“I heard a footstep, and stepping aside into the bushes, I saw a dark -looking monk enter the cottage, and he was followed by a big, rough -soldier; and _he_ was followed by _such_ a handsome cavalier, dressed in -such a gay dress, and O! bless ye all--he wore _such_ a fine, dancing -feather in his cap! Upon my word, it waved like a sunbeam in the evening -twilight!” - -“What color were his eyes?” asked Loretta. - -“Was he tall or short?” inquired Theresa. - -“I suppose you will say next, that he had a _manly_ figure? eh?” and -the youth pulled his slouched hat fiercely over his right ear, and then -halting on one leg, he threw the other forward, while with his arms -placed akimbo, he seemed waiting for somebody or other to take his -portrait. - -“To be sure he had a _manly_ figure,” returned Dolabella, glancing -contemptuously at the bow-legged youth; “he was none of your -whipper-snapping, strutting, and boasting postillions; he was none of -your conceited--” - -“_Dolabella!_” exclaimed the youth in a pathetic tone. - -“Well, Signor Francisco?” - -“Dolabella, do you see the convent of St. Benedict yonder?” - -He pointed to the dark and time-worn walls of the monastery, it stood -among the forest-trees on the western side of the lake, upon the summit -of a precipitous cliff, which towered in rugged grandeur from the bosom -of the mountain waters. - -The cheerful sunbeam was shining over the dark towers of the monastery -over the surrounding forest-trees, and along the recesses of the -gardens, that varied the appearance of the wild wood beyond the ancient -walls, and the white cliff gave its broad surface to the light of day, -yet there was an air of gloom resting upon the entire view, the dark -towers, the white cliff, and the luxuriant gardens; while the reflection -of the scene in the deep and mirror-like waters of the lake, was so -calm, so clear, so perfect in the faintest outline, that it looked more -like the creation of an artist’s pencil, than a landscape of the living -world. - -As the pompous Francisco pointed to the dark walls of the monastery, an -involuntary thrill ran around the group of peasant damsels, and there -was a pause of strange silence for a single moment. - -“The Monastery of St. Benedict!” murmured Dolabella, “Francisco, fear -you not to make yon strange house the subject of your jest, even in -broad daylight? The cheek of the boldest peasant of these mountains -grows pale at the mention of yon gloomy fabric!” - -“Tis said the ancient Dukes of Florence held strange festivals within -those dark gray walls in the olden time.” - -“Even now, no one knows anything concerning the monks of this monastery. -They give to the mountain poor with a free hand and a liberal -blessing--yet, beshrew me, strange rumors are abroad, and muttered -whispers speak of midnight orgies that it would shame an honest maiden -to name, held within yon darksome house!” - -“I jest not!” exclaimed the postillion; “I jest not. I am in earnest--by -the True Cross, am I. Did you ever hear of the legend of yon whitened -precipice? How a desperate youth threw himself from the rock, down into -the ravine--and--and--mark me--if on some very bright and agreeable -morning I should be found laying at the foot of the awful steep, -scattered into a thousand fragments--then think of the victim of your -perfidy, Dolabella. And you, Theresa, and you, Loretta, think of the -miserable fate of Francisco--your victim--with remorse--with bitter -remorse!” - -Having thus given the damsels to understand that among them all, his -heart was certainly broken, the little postillion strutted away with -folded arms and a measured step. Indeed, by the immense strides he took -with his inverted legs, it did really seem that he had been hired to -measure the greatest possible quantity of ground, in the shortest -possible number of steps. - -The damsels replied to this pathetic appeal by a burst of laughter. - -“I’ll tell you what we shall do,” said Dolabella. “This little -whipper-snapper has been making love to all three of us, for nearly two -years. Let us pretend to be desperately enamoured of this strange -cavalier at the cottage.” - -“O yes--yes!” cried Theresa. - -“Certainly! O certainly!” exclaimed Loretta. - -“That will bring Signor Postillion to terms,” continued the tall damsel, -“and besides girls, we’ll learn all about this strange old woman.” - -“This strange priest!” said Loretta. - -“And this handsome cavalier!” cried Theresa. - -And presently they separated; each determining to out-wit the other; -both in regard to the strangers in the cottage on the hill, and to the -securing of the gallant vagabond Francisco, who to do him justice, had -those two important qualities necessary to winning the heart of a vain -woman--saith the Chronicler of the Ancient MSS.--a glib tongue and a -rare knack of making presents of all sorts of gairish finery. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTH. - -THE BRIDAL EVE. - -THE HEBREW AND THE ARAB-MUTE ENTER THE COURT YARD OF ALBARONE, WHILE THE -LADYE ANNABEL IS PASSING TO THE CHAPEL OF SAINT GEORGE. - - -The azure sky was glowing with the mild warmth of the summer twilight, -the zenith was mellowed with the light of the declining day, the western -horizon was varied by alternate flashes of gold and crimson, when the -ancient Castle of Albarone, thro’ every hall and corridor, rang with the -shouts of merriment, and the gay sounds of festival revelry. - -From the various towers of the castle, pennons of strange colors and -curious emblazonry, waved in the evening air, each flag, the trophy of -some hard fought battle, while high over all, floating from the loftiest -tower, the broad banner of the House of Albarone, gave its gorgeous -folds, its rich armorial bearings, the motto in letters of gold, and the -Winged Leopard, to the ruddy glare of the western sky. - -The lowered drawbridge, and the raised portcullis, gave admittance to -numerous bands of peasantry, wending from the various tenements that -dotted the domains of Albarone, all clad in their holiday costume, while -the air echoed with their light-hearted laughter, as the merry jest, or -the gay carol, rang from side to side. - -All along the hill, leading to the castle gate, and thro’ the luxuriant -wood circling round its base, hurried the peasant bands, their attire of -picturesque beauty, giving variety and contrast to the scene, while now -loitering in groups, now hastening one by one toward the castle, they -peopled the highway, and thronged over the drawbridge into the court -yard of the castle. - -Walking amid these gay parties, yet alone and unaccompanied save by a -solitary attendant, there strode wearily forward a personage who to all -appearance ranked among a far-scattered people, at once the scorn and -fear of Christendom. - -Clad in a long coat of the coarsest serge, varied by numerous patches, -with a piked staff in his hand, and a pack somewhat extensive in shape, -strapped over his broad shoulders, the slouching hat which defended the -head of the JEW, revealed a face, dark and tawny in hue, stern in -expression, marked by a sharp and searching eye, whose glance seemed -skilled in reading the hearts of men; a bold prominent nose, while the -lower part of his cheeks, his chin and upper lip, were covered by a -stout beard, which, black as jet, descended to his girdle, mingling with -the long and curling locks of sable hue, that gave their impressive -relief to the outline of the Hebrew’s countenance. - -By his side walked his slender-shaped attendant, to all appearance a -youth of some twenty winters, yet his tawny face, marked by bold and -regular features, half-concealed by masses of jet black hair, falling -aside from his forehead, in elf-like curls, was marked by a deep wrinkle -between the brows, a stern compression of the lip, and a wild and -wandering eye, that glanced from side to side with a restless and -nervous glance, that seemed to peruse the face of every man who came -within its gaze, and read the characters and motives of all who -journeyed onward to the castle. - -Attired like his master, in garments of the coarsest serge, the Servitor -of the Hebrew, bore on his shoulder, a voluminous pack, which seemed to -oppress its bearer with an unusual weight, for he well-nigh tottered -under the load. - -Without heeding the sneer, and the jest which assailed him from every -side, the Hebrew crossed the drawbridge, and passing under the -portcullis he presently stood in the midst of the castle yard, where -unstrapping his pack, he displayed his rich and gaudy stores to the eyes -of the wondering multitude. His servitor also displayed his pack to -their gaze, but stood silent and unmoveable, his arms folded, and his -wild eyes glaring strangely over the faces of the crowd. - -“Who’ll buy--who’ll buy?” cried the Hebrew, in the suppliant voice of -trade, as casting his eyes around the court-yard, he surveyed the -brilliant scene at a glance. - -Around, all dark and time-worn, the walls of the castle--each casement -blazing with torches--looked down upon various groups of the peasantry -and servitors of Albarone, some engaged in light and gleesome gossip, -while others were hurrying hither and thither, on errands pertaining to -the feast which was to grace the castle hall on the morrow. - -In front of the arching roof of the kitchen door stood the gray haired -sharp featured, and sharp voiced Steward of the castle, engaged in -superintending the operations of a number of hinds, who were severing -the limbs of various fat bucks, and cutting up certain lusty beeves, and -preparing various kinds of game, for the vast fire that blazed on the -kitchen hearth. - -Farther on, a minstrel was entertaining a circle of peasants, with the -song of love, or the tale of knightly valor; at a short distance, the -privileged fool, with his cap and bells, and fantastic dress, was -uttering his merry quips and far-fetched jests, which ever and anon he -varied by a nimble summersault, while the gaping crowd held their sides -as their boisterous laughter broke upon the ear, with all its jovial -discord and dissonance. - -“Who’ll buy! who’ll buy!” shouted the Jew, “here’s broaches for ye -damsels fair--broaches and gauds, rings for your fingers, and crosses of -ebony for your bosoms. Look ye how this heart of gold would sink and -swell on a maiden’s snow white breast! Here’s plumes for the warriors’ -helmet; daggers for his belt, and trappings for his steed. Who’ll buy! -who’ll buy!--Here’s ornaments of gold and silver for the doublet of the -page, essences for his flowing hair, and chains for his neck.--Who’ll -buy--who’ll buy.--Broaches, gauds, rings, gems, plumes, belts, -trappings, perfumes, chains, laces of gold! Who’ll buy! Who’ll buy! -Gentles, list ye all! Chains, laces of gold, perfumes, trappings, belts, -plumes, gems, rings, gauds, broaches. Who’ll buy! who’ll buy!” - -“The Virgin save us all!” exclaimed Guiseppo who stood among the crowd -that gathered round the Israelite, “the Virgin save us all, but -_there’s_ a tongue for you, my good folks.” - -This was said with an attitude of mock astonishment, and corresponding -grimace of the features. - -“An’ my tongue suits ye so well, gentle sir, may-hap you’ll try some of -my wares?” - -“What have you, Sir Gripe-fist, that it would become _me_ to buy?” - -“Everything to suit a gallant page, everything. Except three wares with -which the great merchant--_Nature_--must provide him, or else he’ll make -but a sorry page.” - -“And those wares--how do you style them?” asked the page. - -“The first,” replied the Jew with a demure look, “the first ware is -somewhat dull and heavy, it is labelled--_Impudence_--may it please thee -fair Page.” - -“Thou heathen hound, thou!” exclaimed Guiseppo, half amused and half -angered. “How name you the second ware? Eh! Leatherface?” - -“The second ware,” the Jew replied meekly, “the second ware is light and -feathery. It bears the name--_Self-conceit_. As for the third--” - -“Aye the third,” interrupted the page. “Go on my black bearded -friend--go on--I’ll borrow a good oaken towel to rub you down, when you -have done.” - -“As for the third, it is the stuff of which the two others are made. It -is heavier and duller than _Impudence_, and lighter and more feathery -than _Self-conceit_, they style it _Ignorance_. And these three wares -are the sole contents of the cob-web-hung storehouse of Sir Page’s -brain. An’ it likes thee, fair sir?” - -The Israelite bowed low as he spoke. - -“Ha--ha--ha! fairly hit! Ho--ho--ho! The Jew turns Scholar, and preaches -like a monk.--He--he--he! The trim Page is hit--fairly hit.” Such were -the exclamations that went around the laughing crowd. - -“Now receive thy pay, thou son of Sathanas!” exclaimed Guiseppo, -brandishing an oaken staff; “here’s at thee!” - -“Nay, nay!” exclaimed one of the spectators, “thou art fairly hit, sir -Guiseppo.” - -“Aye, aye, fairly hit,” cried another; and “The Jew has paid thee in -thine own coin,” a third shouted, throwing himself in the path of the -page. - -“Nay, nay, let him come!” cried the Jew, with a sneer. “Let him come. -I’ll tame his pageship.” - -“Dost thou mock me, thou dog!” As he spoke, the page raised his oaken -staff, and whirling it around his head, he aimed with all his strength -at the sconce of the Jew, who coolly turned aside the blow with his -upraised arm, and in an instant he had Guiseppo by the throat. - -He whispered a word in the ear of the page, and then, unloosing his -hold, he began to gather up his wares. - -The eyebrows of the page elevated with astonishment, and his lips -parted. The bystanders gathered around Guiseppo with various expressions -of their surprise at the sudden change that had passed over him. - -“Why stare you so?” exclaimed a peasant maid. - -“Art mad?” asked one of the yeoman of the guard. - -“Perhaps moon-struck?” suggested another. - -Guiseppo made no reply, but walked slowly away, while the Jew remained -standing in the centre of the group, with his servitor waiting silently -by his side. - -“Look ye, son of Moses,” cried one of the yeomen, advancing toward the -Jew, “why stands this man of thine so silent and still? He moves not, -nor does he speak; but his wild eye is glancing hither and thither like -a fire-coal. Why does he stand thus mute and speechless?” - -A grim smile passed over the bearded features of the Jew. - -“Ask a post why it does not speak, or ask a war-horse to troll ye a -merry song! You are a keen yeoman and a shrewd, yet did it ne’er strike -ye that my servitor might be incapable of speech? A poor Arab boy, -gentle sirs and damsels, whose dying father gave him to my care, when -perishing on the field of battle, in the wilds of Palestine, some twenty -years agone.” - -“A son of the paynim Mahound,” muttered the yeoman, with a look of -scorn. - -“Nay he is of the faith of Christ,” interrupted the Jew. “Behold, he -wears the cross of Rome!” - -“A sweet youth, and gentle-faced, though somewhat sad in look,” murmured -a peasant matron, gazing with a look of pity upon the tawny face of the -Arab mute. - -And while the group of peasant men and women clustered around the Jew -and his Arab boy, a cry ran through the castle yard, echoed from lip to -lip, and repeated by the crowd thronging the place, until the air seemed -alive with the shout: “She comes, she comes! The fair Ladye Annabel is -passing to the chapel of St. George! Make way for the betrothed! Make -way for the Ladye Annabel! _Make way for the Duchess of Florence!_” - -In a moment the court-yard was occupied by two files of men-at-arms, who -extended from the great steps, ascending to the massive door of the -castle hall, along the level space, making a lane for the passage of the -Ladye Annabel and her train. The crowd came thronging to the backs of -the warriors, gathering around the staircase, and blackening on every -side, eager to behold the betrothed of his grace the Duke of Florence. - -Foremost among the throng at the bottom of the stairway, his pack lashed -to his back, and a small casket in his hands, the black-bearded Jew -appeared to take great interest in the scene progressing before his -eyes. - -The Arab mute stood at his back, half concealed from view, and unseen or -unnoticed by the survitors and vassals of Albarone. - -In after times, some of the vassals remembered well that they observed -the wild eyes of the Arabian glaring fiercely over the shoulder of the -Jew, while his right hand was thrust within the folds of his coarse -gaberdine, and his entire appearance denoted a mind agitated by some -fierce resolve. - -A low, solemn peal of music broke on the air, and a ruddy blaze of -light was thrown from the recesses of the massive hall doors. In a -moment a band of cavaliers, attired in all the glitter of spangled cloak -and waving plume, came from the hall, and took their position on either -side of the staircase, each gay cavalier holding a torch on high, while -the gleaming light revealed each handsome face, wearing the polished -smile, and the costumes varied with strange fancies of embroidery, and -fashioned after every manner of device, were disclosed in all their -luxuriance and splendor. - -A murmur ran through the crowd, and the gaily-attired form of his grace -of Florence issued from the hall door, followed by the slight figure of -the Count Aldarin. - -As they took their positions on either side of the hall door, the crowd -below had time to notice the strange contrast between the Lord of -Albarone and the Duke of Florence. - -Aldarin, pale in face, slender in form, attired in his robes of solemn -black, the cap of dark fur on his forehead, with the blaze of a single -gem relieving its midnight darkness, standing silent and motionless on -one side of the hall door, his keen gray eyes half hidden by his brows, -as though he was absent with thoughts of more than mortal interest. - -The Duke, the gallant Duke, all show, and glitter, and costume, a -doublet of white satin encircling his well-proportioned form, a cloak of -the most delicate crimson depending from his left shoulder, the hilt of -his jeweled sword glittering in the light; while his dainty cap of pink -velvet, with the snow-white plume thrown aside from its front, -surmounted his vacant face, marked by the neatly circled hair, the -carefully trimmed moustache and beard. His eyes glared vacantly to and -fro, and it might easily be seen that his grace of Florence was on a -mental excursion after his looking glass. - -This flashing of torches, this gallant array, heralded the approach of -the Ladye Annabel, who presently emerged from the hall door, followed by -a long line of the bower maidens, arrayed, like their mistress, in -flowing robes, white as the mountain snow untouched by the summer sun. - -The face of the Ladye Annabel was pale as the attire that enveloped her -slender form, and she leaned for support on the arm of her black-eyed -cousin, the damsel Rosalind. - -Pale and beautiful, the victim of the sacrifice of the morrow, neither -returned the deep inclination of the head with which the Duke of -Florence greeted her appearance, nor glanced upon the countenance of her -father; but slowly moved down the steps of stone, her eyes downcast, and -her face calm as the sculptured marble. - -“She is pale,” murmured Aldarin, “pale as death! She walks with the -measured step of the victim walking to the living tomb!” - -“I’ faith, she is beautiful!” muttered the Duke. “My bride will hang -like a pleasant costume on this royal arm!” - -The black-bearded Hebrew gazed upon the Ladye Annabel with a keen and -searching eye, while the Arab mute, standing at his back, bowed his head -low on his breast, and veiled his face with one hand, as the other was -thrust within the folds of his coarse doublet. - -Slowly the procession ascended the steps of stone, one foot of the -betrothed was upon the pavement of the castle yard, when a rushing sound -was heard, a hurried footstep, and the Jew rushed through the -men-at-arms--flinging himself at the maiden’s feet, he threw open the -casket which he held in his hand. - -“Fair ladye,” he cried, in a deep-toned voice, “It is the lace--the lace -of price, which two days since I promised to procure thee. ’Tis worth -its weight in gold--aye, an hundred times over! Look, ladye--’tis the -best that gold or favor might procure.” - -The Ladye Annabel started at the uncouth appearance and bearded face of -the Jew, while the bystanders seemed struck dumb with his audacity. - -In an instant cries of execration arose on all sides. The Count Aldarin -advanced hastily to his daughter’s side, while the Duke of Florence -muttered an involuntary oath, as two of the men-at-arms raised their -swords to hew the Israelite to the earth. - -It was a fearful moment, and the Jew seemed to feel that his fate was -wavering like the sunbeam on the point of a brightened dagger. - -He made a quick gesture to the Arab mute, he seized the wrist of the -fair Rosalind, and looking her earnestly in the face, whispered a -hurried word in the maiden’s ear, deep and piercing in its import, yet -inaudible to the group clustered around. - -Rosalind turned pale, started quickly aside, but in a moment seemed -chiding herself for this folly, as with a smile on her lip she spoke to -the Ladye Annabel in a low and murmured tone. Annabel started, with the -quick convulsive start that follows an overwhelming surprise. - -She started, but in a moment recovering herself, she exclaimed with a -firm voice, and extended arms-- - -“Touch him not--do the Jew no harm! It is by my command that he is here. -Sir Merchant,” she continued, with a smile of kindly meaning, “you will -wait for me, in the hall of the castle--there will I look at your wares -when the evening mass is done.” - -“This is wondrous strange,” murmured Aldarin. “Some changing woman’s -fancy, I trow--” - -“Certes, the lace must be rare in texture, and quaint in device!” half -muttered the Duke. “Yet I never knew that there was magic in the mere -mention of such costly gear, before this moment!” - -The men-at-arms released the Jew, and the procession passed on towards -the more distant precincts of the castle, where the light of many -torches presently streamed from the arching windows of the chapel of St. -George of Albarone, showing in full and beautiful relief the snow-white -forms of the maidens, passing through the sacred door of the church -followed by the Count Aldarin and the Duke, environed by a glittering -throng of cavaliers. - -Meanwhile, alone and in the darkness, deserted by the crowd, near the -hall door, stood the Hebrew and his Mute Servitor, gazing ardently upon -the receding procession, until the last cavalier disappeared within the -walls of the chapel. - -Then it was that a grim smile passed over the bearded face of the Jew, -while the Arab boy started wildly aside clenching his hands with sudden -agitation, as the strains of the Holy Mass, floating from the chapel, -broke upon his ear. - -An hour passed. The holy ceremonies of religion had ceased to echo -through the walls of the chapel. The Ladye Annabel attended by her -maidens had again passed into the castle hall. Beside one of the pillars -of the lofty door, stood the gallant Guiseppo, his arms folded and his -eyes fixed upon the heavens above. - -Guiseppo was enrapt in the mysteries of a sombre study. - -He was just wondering what the stars could be made of, whether they were -veritable balls of fire, unstable meteors, or angel’s eyes--how it -chanced that they were lighted up so regularly every night, stormy ones -of course excepted--where they went in day-time--and then he fell to -thinking of angels, fairies, and other beings made all out of air--and -from angels it was quite natural that his thoughts should pass to woman; -and with the thought of woman came dim, floating visions of ancles well -turned, black eyes beaming like living things, ruby lips wreathing in a -smile, while they wooed the kiss of love. There is no knowing how far -his musings might have gone, had he not been disturbed by the sound of a -footstep breaking the silence of the castle yard. He looked in the -direction from whence the sound proceeded, and beheld a strange figure, -clad in solemn black, approaching from the gloom of the court-yard. It -drew nearer and nearer, and Guiseppo beheld the form of the Scholar -Aldarin. - -He came slowly onward, toward the light burning over the hall door, and -the Page remembered in after life that his face was most ghastly to -behold, most fearful to look upon. - -His head drooped upon his breast over his folded arms, his eyes dilated -to their utmost, glaring vacantly on the earth, while his lips moved in -broken murmurs, the Scholar ascended the steps of stone, as the Page -observed him from the shadow of a massive pillar. - -“It hastens, it hastens to perfection--THE MIGHTY SPELL! The -marriage--ha, ha, Duchess of Florence!--HE shall live again--ha, ha! the -world shall not say Aldarin toiled in vain! The secret--a few more -days--ALDARIN LIVES FOREVER!” - -And as the murmurs broke wildly from his lips, the Scholar disappeared -within the shadow of the hall door, leaving the careless Guiseppo to -the memory of that fearful face. It was an appalling memory. Guiseppo’s -cheek grew pale, and his whole frame trembled with an indefinable fear. - -How long he remained in this state he knew not, but after a long lapse -of dreamy reverie, he was startled by a slight tap on his shoulder. - -Looking around, he beheld the beaming eyes of the fair Rosalind fixed -upon him with a glance which for the moment banished the face of Aldarin -from his mind, and made his heart knock sadly against his breast. - -“What wouldst have, Rosalind?” _The maiden whispered in his ear._ - -It was curious to see the change that came over the countenance of the -page; the pallor vanished from his visage, which swelled out on either -side as though he had an orange in each cheek, his lips were curiously -pursed, while his eyes rolled about in his head after a strange fashion. - -“Eh? Rosalind?” he cried, as if he had not understood her aright. - -Again did the maiden whisper in his ear. - -“By our Lady!” exclaimed Guiseppo, “but this does exceed everything that -I ever did hear. Art not crazed, sweetheart?” - -“Say, Guiseppo, wilt do it for my sake!” - -The bewitching smile with which this was said, appeared to complete the -conquest of the page. - -“I’ll obey thee,” he cried, “but surely ’tis a strange request.” - -“_Strange?_ nonsense! Never call the whim of woman--_strange_! Hie thee -away and do ’t immediately. I will tell thee more concerning this matter -in the evening. Away! away!” - -And as the lovely damsel tripped lightly down the steps and wended her -way toward the castle gate, on an errand whose import may possibly be -revealed in future pages of this history, the page Guiseppo entered the -hall of the castle, while his frame shook with a pleasant fit of inward -laughter. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIFTH. - -THE BRIDAL MORN. - -THE WEDDING GUESTS CIRCLE ROUND THE HOLY ALTAR, WHILE THE SCHOLAR -ALDARIN STRIKES HIS DAGGER AT THE INTANGIBLE AIR. - - -The first flash of the morn that was to gild the fair brow of the Ladye -Annabel with a ducal coronet, glowed faintly in the eastern sky, and -the black-bearded Jew stood in the court-yard, casting his eyes -earnestly about him, as if waiting the approach of one with whom he had -made an appointment. - -Not long did he wait, for presently emerging from a small door inserted -in a wing of the castle, near the chapel of St. George, the page -Guiseppo approached, with his form muffled up in his cloak of blue -velvet and gold embroidery; while his slouching hat, drooping over his -face, concealed his features entirely from the view. - -By his side, at a respectful distance, walked the Arab mute, his head -bowed low, and his face half concealed by his jet-black locks, while he -tottered under the weight of his heavy burden. - -As Guiseppo gained the side of the Jew, a sentinel was passing. - -“Ho, sir page!” exclaimed the Hebrew, “thou seem’st fearful of the -morning breeze. Hurry along--hurry along--or beshrew me, thou wilt not -get the rare lace for the Ladye Annabel--the rare lace worth its weight -in gold a hundred times told. Haste thee--haste thee!” - -They crossed the court-yard, and presently stood before the pillars of -the castle gate, which was guarded by four sentinels, attired in the -livery of his grace of Florence. - -“Fair sir,” exclaimed the Jew, addressing one of the men-at-arms, “I -would pass through the castle gate. I am bound for the village hard by -the castle. Albarone, I think you call it?” - -“Wherefore abroad so early?” asked the sentinel; “and why goes Guiseppo -with you?” - -“Yesternight, when I journeyed toward the castle, some of my most -precious wares I left behind me at the hostel of the village below. The -Ladye Annabel wishes to purchase some rare and costly laces. My business -calls me and this poor dumb youth away to the north, and therefore is -the page sent with me; he is sent to receive the wares purchased by the -Ladye Annabel. Hast any thing further to ask, sir sentinel?” - -And as he asked the question, the page Guiseppo and the Arabian drew -nearer to the Jew, awaiting the answer with evident interest. - -It was observable that the right hand of the mute was thrust within the -folds of his doublet, while his blue eye, so strangely contrasting with -his dark brows and darker hair, glared fiercely into the faces of the -sentinels. - -“I have nothing more to ask of thee, _now_,” exclaimed another sentinel, -advancing. “But had not the Duke sent me this pass for thee, thy -servitor, and the page Guiseppo, the foul fiend take me, but I would -have seen thy heathen carcass at the devil, ere a bolt should be drawn -for thee to pass forth at this unseasonable hour. Thy way lies before -thee, Jew!” - -As he spoke, he applied a key to a small door which was cut into the -massive timbers of the castle gate. The door flew open, and through the -opened space the drawbridge was seen descending. One foot of the Jew -was passed through the narrow entrance, when the sentinel who held the -pass of the Duke, exclaimed: - -“Why, Guiseppo, what aileth thee? Wherefore art muffled up in this -fashion? Where are thy merry jests? Where is that magpie tongue of -thine? Hast forgotten all thy mischievous pranks--eh, sir page?” - -A low, moaning noise came from the mouth of the mute, as he seemed -impatient of the delay. - -“I have no time to trifle in idle converse,” exclaimed the Jew. “Come -on, fair sir, the morning breaks, and I must be on my way.” - -He took the page by the shoulder, and gently pulled him through the -doorway, leaving the sentinels to their surprise at the strange silence -of the mirthful Guiseppo, while the unfortunate mute slowly followed in -the footsteps of the Jew, his right hand trembling with a scarce -perceptible motion, as he buried it within the folds of his doublet. - -With a hurried step, the Jew and his companion passed over the -drawbridge, and in a moment standing upon the summit of the hill upon -whose rocks and caverns the castle was founded, they viewed the winding -road beneath. - -The page turned his head--still concealed by his slouched hat--he turned -his head for a moment toward the castle, and a slight tremor pervaded -his frame. - -Then his hand was extended, grasping the hand of the Arab mute, who -returned the grasp with a firm pressure upon the white fingers of the -dainty page. - -“Let us onward! Let us onward!” whispered the Jew. “A long journey have -we before us. Onward, I pray ye!” - -They hurriedly wended down the hill, and ere an hundred could be told, -their forms were lost to sight in the shades of the forest. - -All bright and glorious came on the rising day, lighting up the -cloudless azure with its kindly beams, shimmering over the waves of the -broad, deep river, filling the wild-wood glade with glimpses of golden -light; while the far-off mountains towered into the heavens, the white -clouds crowning their rugged peaks, radiant with the changing hues of -the morning sun. - -And while the day wore slowly on, the paths leading through the valley -toward the castle, the winding ways that passed through the recesses of -the wild wood, and the great highway sweeping on toward Florence the -Fair, were all alive with crowds of peasants, in their holiday attire, -wrinkled age and red-lipped youth, mature manhood and careless boyhood, -all hastening onward toward the castle of Albarone, anxious to behold -the marriage of the Duke and the Ladye Annabel. - -The day wore on, and the court-yard was thronged by strange and -contrasted bands; the peasant in his gay costume, the vassal in his rich -livery, side by side with the man-at-arms clad in glittering mail, while -the servitors of the house ran hurriedly to and fro, passing with hasty -steps from hall to hall, from gallery to gallery, as the confused sounds -of preparation for the bridal feast awoke the echoes of the arching -corridor or pillared hall. - -The first quarter of the day had passed, and the shadow of the dial -plate in the castle yard, was gliding over the path of high noon. - -As gay a bridal party as ever the sun shone upon, waited within the -walls of the chapel of St. George. They waited for the coming of the -bridegroom and bride. - -There were queenly ladies and beauteous damsels, gallant lords and gay -cavaliers, blazing in gorgeous attire; there, mingling with the -men-at-arms of Albarone, thronged the retainers of the Duke, robed in -the royal livery of his house; and beside the altar stood the priest and -the father, the venerable abbot of St. Peters, arrayed in his sacred -robes, and the sage and thoughtful Aldarin, Count Di Albarone, attired, -as was his wont, in the plain tunic of sable velvet, relieved by the -sweeping robe of black, with his pale forehead surmounted by the cap of -fur, glittering with a single gem. - -Long will it be, by my troth, very long--thus runs the words of the -ancient MSS.--ere the light of day will look down upon a scene so full -of gaiety and grandeur. - -The tall and swelling forms of the noble dames, arrayed in all the -richest silks that the East might furnish, covered with gold and -brilliant with jewels;--the noble figures of the cavaliers, their gay -doublets hung with the symbols of the various orders of chivalry, their -belts of every variety of ornament, and of every fancy of embroidery, -their diamond-hilted swords, their jeweled caps, surmounted by nodding -plumes and their cloaks of the finest velvet depending carelessly from -the right shoulder, and falling in graceful folds over the -arm,--combined with the glare of Milan steel worn by the men-at-arms, -and the glitter of the rich liveries of the retainers of the Duke, -formed a scene of vivid and contrasting interest. - -The gallant party began to express their wonder at the long delayed -approach of the Duke and his fair bride, and even the venerable abbot -betrayed marks of impatience. - -It was worthy of note, that for the space of ten minutes or more, the -Count Aldarin had stood beside the priest, silent and motionless, with -his eyebrows knit, and his lips compressed, while he gazed steadily at -the slabs of the mosaic pavement in front of the altar, which, for the -space of some half score paces or more, was left bare and unoccupied by -the crowd. - -At last, placing his lips to the ear of the abbot, and hurriedly -glancing around, as if fearful of being observed, the Count whispered-- - -“_What doth_ HE _here?_” he said, pointing to the pavement in front of -the altar. - -“To whom dost thou refer, my Lord Count?” inquired the Priest. - -“S’life!” exclaimed the Count in a voice that trembled from some unknown -cause; “S’life! I mean the _stranger_--he in the dark armor, with the -raised vizor and that ghastly face. Dost not see him?” - -“My Lord, there is no one before the altar attired in armor. Around us -are the throng of Lords and Ladies--but all are arrayed in robes of -peace. Mayhap you speak of one of the men-at-arms who stand yonder, near -the door of the chapel?” - -“Shaveling! I mean _the stranger_ who stands in front of the altar. He -with the plume as dark as death falling over that pale and lofty -forehead. He who gazes so fixedly with those glassy eyes--gazes and -looks, yet speaks no word. By Heavens, he means to mock me. I will -strike him down even where he stands!” - -He advanced hurriedly to the front of the altar, and in an instant the -bystanders beheld him striking his dagger in the air, while his pale -features were convulsed by a strange expression. - -“Thou shalt not escape me!” he shouted.--“Elude me not--I’ll have thee, -coward! This to thy very heart! What, art thou dagger proof? Guards, I -say, seize this traitor! Albarone to the rescue!” - -It was with a feeling of indefinable awe, that the bridal throng beheld -the Count Aldarin standing with his eyes strained from their very -sockets, his brows woven together, and his whole face stamped with an -expression which was neither terror nor hate, but seemed a mingling of -terror, hate, and despair. - -Two courtiers sprang at the same time from the group, crying as they -drew their swords-- - -“My Lord, where is the traitor? Who is’t?” - -“Shall I be slain upon my own ground? Where is the traitor? Before your -eyes he stands. _He!_ I mean. Look--look! Behold! he leans upon the -altar! He smiles in scorn--he mocks me!” - -Aldarin stamped his foot with rage, and shrieked-- - -“By the Eternal God! but this is brave! Will ye see me murdered before -your eyes! Seize--I say--seize the traitor!” - -“Benedicite!” muttered the venerable abbot, gazing upon the wild face of -Aldarin; “the fiend is among us!” - -As he spoke, the Duke of Florence all daintily apparelled in his wedding -dress, with surprise and vexation pictured in every lineament of his -countenance, broke through the throng, exclaiming-- - -“My Lord Count, thy daughter is no where to be found. The Ladye Annabel -hath gone: no one knoweth whither!” - -“My Lord Duke,” said Aldarin in a whisper, “can’st thou tell me who is -the stranger?” - -“Eh?” exclaimed the astonished Duke, gazing upon Aldarin with a vacant -stare. - -“_He_ I mean who standeth by the altar. He in the sable armor--with the -pale brow and the eyes of fire--with the dark plume overshadowing his -helmet! By heavens, I behold under his plume the crest of the Winged -Leopard!” - -“By our Lady, but thou describest the late Count Di Albarone. Mayhap he -comes from the grave to witness against his son, the vile parricide, he -who hath fled with thy daughter. May the fiend curse him for’t!” - -“_Fled with my daughter? my daughter fled?_” shouted Aldarin, as he -suddenly seemed to break the spell that bound him. - -“Pardon me, my friends. Anxiety for my child--grief for my brother--have -driven me mad.--My brain is fevered--I am ill. My daughter fled, say’st -thou? How?--when? What meanest thou?” - -The Duke hurriedly turned to Guiseppo, who stood among the throng of -bower maidens, who had followed his Grace into the chapel. - -“Guiseppo, advance. What said the Ladye Annabel when thou didst return -this morning from thy errand beyond the castle walls in company with the -Jewish merchant. Eh? Guiseppo?” - -“My Lord Duke,” replied the page, “I went not forth this morning from -the castle walls--” - -“Saving this presence,” cried a man-at-arms pressing forward, “saving -this presence, Sir Page, but there thou liest. Did I not see thee go -forth this morning at daybreak?--the Jew with thee, and thy face muffled -up as if thou wert ashamed of thy errand?” - -“How say you?” cried Aldarin, whose native perception had returned, “His -face muffled? Come hither, girl,” he continued, addressing Rosalind, who -stood among the throng of bower maidens. “Girl, when didst see thy -mistress last?” - -“My Lord Count,” said the maiden, “I left the Ladye Annabel last night -at twelve: I slept within the ante-chamber adjoining her bower. This -morning on knocking at her door I found it fastened. I did not like to -disturb her, so I waited--” here Rosalind seemed confused, while the -blush deepened over her cheek. “I waited, my Lord Count, hour after -hour, until my Lord the Duke came to lead the bride to church. -Then--then--” - -“By the body of God, but I see it all!” thus exclaimed the Count -Aldarin. “I have been fooled--duped, and by thee, girl! Thou art my own -sister’s child, but think not to escape the vengeance of Aldarin! I see -all--my daughter--the wanton!--has fled in the attire of this page, he -too is a plotter, he who oweth life--fortune--everything--to me! Guards, -seize the miscreant! Tremble--well thou may’st! Thou hast invoked the -axe--beware its fall! To the lowest dungeon of the castle with him! -away! To horse--to horse!” continued Aldarin, glancing round upon the -astonished assemblage. “To horse--to horse!--mount every man! Scour -every road, every path in the domains of Albarone! Sweep the highway to -Florence! A thousand pieces of gold to him who brings the haggard -back!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SIXTH. - -SIR GEOFFREY O’ TH’ LONGSWORD. - -THE SPIRIT OF THE CHRONICLE THROWS BACK THE CURTAIN OF FATE, AND GIVES -TO VIEW SOME GLIMPSES OF THE LAST SCENE, IN WHICH THE BARBS OF ARIMANES -BECOME THE AVENGERS OF HEAVEN. - - -Along a mossy, winding path, that led through the sunlit glades and -shady recesses of a green and bowery forest, two travellers, one a -stripling and the other a man of some forty winters, were wending their -way, while the dew was yet upon the turf, and while the morning carol of -innumerable birds arose from the bosom of the rich foliage. - ---Thus in his own enthusiastic way speaks the Chronicler of the Ancient -MSS. His words, it is true are somewhat redundant, but yet there is -heart in them after all.-- - -The cheeks of the youth were strangely puffed out, his lips were -gathered like the mouth of a purse, while he whistled with an -earnestness that was certainly wonderful. Presently he spoke-- - -“By’r Ladye, but that was the most exquisite thing of all. Eh? Good -Robin? The idea of thy carcass being perched upon the back of the Demon -Statue in that pestilent cavern. And frightening the old Count into -fits, too! Ha! ha! ha! ’Twas rich! By the Saints it was! Oh, Robin, thou -art certainly the very devil for mischief! That prank of gagging the old -Israelite, and stealing his beard, coat, pack and all, was cruel, by my -troth it was! Where didst thou leave the old gripefist?” - -“As I told thee before, thou rattlebrained popinjay!” the other replied -with a good natured smile. “With a heavy heart I wended along the -highway, on the eve of the bridal, thinking of the fair Ladye Annabel, -when who should I behold trudging before me, but this good son of Moses. -I laid him upon the earth in a wink--gagged him, and concealed him in -the cottage of a peasant, whose ears I filled with a terrible tale of -the Jew’s roguery; how he had stolen the plate of the castle, and so on. -I then disguised myself in the Hebrew’s attire; with what success you -are already aware.--After I had effected the deliverance of the Ladye -Annabel, I released the Jew who ran beardless and affrighted, as fast as -his legs could carry him, out of the demesnes of Albarone!” - -“Where didst leave the Ladye Annabel, Robin? Who was the Arab Mute? -Where is he now?” - -“I left her _in safety_, most sagacious Guiseppo. And as for the -Mute--I’ll tell thee anon. How didst feel when I came to release thee -from the dungeon? eh?” - -‘O! St. Peter! By my troth it would make a picture. There I sat, upon -the bench of stone; the taper flinging its beams around the dreary -walls, my elbows resting upon my knees, and my face supported by my -clenched hands; my mind full of dark and gloomy thoughts, and my fancy -forming various pleasant pictures of the gibbet, which was to bear my -figure on the morrow. Imagine this delicate form swinging on a -gibbet--ugh! Thus was I employed, when I heard a noise like the drawing -of bolts. I started, expecting to behold the Count Aldarin; he had -_visited_ the cell an hour or so past, and informed that I had the honor -of being--mark ye, my soldier--_his son_. I started and beheld--thy -welcome visage, my good Robin.” - -“Marry, it was well for thee that the secret passage was known to me. -How sayst thou? Did the murderer aver that he was thy father?” - -“Even so. The Count Aldarin, has ever been kind to me, yet I never -thought I was connected with him by any ties of blood. I have always -been known throughout the castle as _the foundling_. Pleasant name--eh, -Robin? The tale runs that a peasant returning home, on an autumn night, -discovered a child some three years old, crying in the forest. That -child the Scholar Aldarin adopted, and called Guiseppo; which title was -occasionally varied by the servitors of Albarone, to that of _Guiseppo -Stray-Devil_, _Lost-Elf_, and others of like pleasing character. But -whither are we wandering now, good Robin? This is the second day of our -flight; whither are we bound?” - -“Thou wilt know ere long. Didst ever hear of Sir Geoffrey O’ Th’ -Longsword?” - -“What, the stout Englisher! The brave knight who now commands the -soldiers of our late Lord, in Palestine? He that is noted for the -strength of his arms, and the daring of his spirit? Why all Christendom -rings with his feats.” - -“Well, my bird of a page, I have lately heard by a wandering palmer, -that a truce has been made, between that son of Mahound, Saladin, and -the princes of Christendom. Further it is said, that a body of the -crusaders have sailed from Cyprus, and are bound to Italy. Dost see -aught in this, my popinjay?” - -“The Saints help thy senses! Surely you do not mean to say that the -soldiers of Albarone are returning home?” - -“Marry but I do. I mean to wend towards the nearest seaport; I mean -to--” - -“By our Lady,” interrupted Guiseppo, “I spy the dawning of our Lord -Adrian’s day. I do by heaven!” - -And thus conversing they pursued their way along the forest path. - - * * * * * - -Higher and higher rose the sun in the Heavens, and its beams shone upon -the armor of a gallant company which journeyed in brilliant array along -a bye-road leading thro’ a wide and shadowy forest. - -Near the head of the company, on a stout black steed, rode a tall, -stalwart man, full six feet high, broad shouldered, in form, with a -stern, weather beaten countenance. His long white hair, escaping from -beneath his helmet, the vizor of which was raised, fell upon his -mail-clad shoulders, and his beard, frosted by time and battle toil, -swept over the iron plate that defended his muscular chest. - -On either side rode his Esquires, mounted on horses dark and stout, as -that of their knight commander. They were brothers, and side by side had -fought in a thousand battles. - -Both tall, muscular, and dark featured; both having dark eyes, dark -shaggy brows, stiff hair and beard of the same dark hue, they were known -among the ranks of the crusaders as the twin brothers--the brave Esquire -Damian, and the gallant Esquire Halbert. - -Hard matter it were to tell one from the other, so much they looked -alike, had it not been that the visage of Damian, was marked by a sword -wound, which extending from the right eyebrow, passed over his swarthy -forehead and terminated near the left temple; while a deep gash cut into -the right cheek of Halbert, served to distinguish him from his brother. - -In front of the knight, the standard-bearer, mounted on a cream colored -steed, bore aloft a broad banner of azure. A winged leopard was pictured -on its folds, and the inscription read thus--_Grasp boldly and bravely -strike!_ - -In the rear of the gray haired warrior, a stout Englishman, riding on a -dappled gray, held on high a crimson banner, bordered by white, on which -was pictured a two-edged sword, having a long blade, and massy hilt. It -bore the motto-- - - _Hilt for Friend--Point for Foe._ - -Then, riding at their ease, came the men-at-arms arrayed from head to -foot in their armor of Milan steel; their lances were in their hands; -each shield hung at the saddle-bow, and each sword depended from the -belt of buff. - -The gallant band might number an hundred thrice told. - -Behind these soldiers come the varlets of the train, riding beside the -baggage wains, conveying the sick and wounded, who had endured the -burning sun of Palestine, the toil and dangers of the seas, and were now -returning to the land of their birth. - -And there, riding before the baggage wains, four dark-skinned Moors, -mounted on prancing nags, led each man of them, a steed black as night, -at his bridle rein. - -Untamed they were and wild; their eyes gave forth a gleam like the light -of the fire-coal; their necks were proudly arched; their manes flung -waving to the breeze. With a disdainful toss of their quivering -nostrils and a light and springing step, the barbs trod the earth as -gallantly as though they still swept over the desert plains of Araby. - -_Linked with the chain of this wierd chronicle, by a strange decree of -Fate, these barbs, in the course of a few brief days, became the -Instruments of the fearful vengeance of Heaven._ - -“Damian,” said the stalwart knight, as glancing over the long line of -men-at-arms, he gazed upon the Arab steeds,--“How the eye of Lord Julian -will glisten when he gazes upon yonder mettled barbs! I’ faith it makes -an old warrior’s heart beat, to look upon their arching crests, their -eyes of fire, and their skins, black as death.” - -“A Paynim warrior gave these steeds in ransom for his freedom? Is that -the story Sir Geoffrey?” asked Halbert, “Infidel though he was, he gave -a most princely ransom.” - -“Hast ever heard the strange legend which the Arabs tell, concerning -this race of steeds? They prize them, highly as their weight in gold, -red gold. It is said that in the olden time, when Arimanes was hurled -from his throne of Evil, by Ormaz, the Great Being of Good, the spirits -of his followers, accursed and doomed, sought refuge in the bodies of a -race of ebon-colored barbs, that scoured the plains of Araby with the -fleetness of the wind, herding together in the vast solitudes of the -desert, and untameable by man. At last, after a long lapse of centuries, -the most daring of the Arab-chiefs, secured and subjugated to the -control of man, two of these wild horses, from which sprung the race of -the Barbs of Arimanes, or Demon-Steeds. Yonder horses, prancing and -rearing in the grasp of the tawny Moors, are of this race. By my soul, -their flashing eyes give them some title to the name they bear--the -Barbs of Arimanes!” - -“It joys a warrior’s heart to look upon their sinewy forms,” exclaimed -the Esquire Halbert, with a flashing eye. - -“They are slender and graceful as the wild gazelle,” said Damian, “and -yet your stout war-horse of the north bears not fatigue or toil with a -better grace.” - -“Damian,” said the stalwart knight, “Damian, art thou not sorrowed at -the thought of leaving the Holy Land--the glorious scene of so many -hard-fought frays? I trow we will all wish to be again in the midst of -the gallant mellay; shall we not pine for the rugged encounter with the -Paynim host--What sayst thou, Halbert?” - -“He that leaves so brave a battle plain as is the land of the Holy -Sepulchre, without a sigh of regret, is unworthy of the lay of minstrel, -or love of ladye. For my part, I would all these truces were at the -devil!” - -“I say amen to thy prayer, good brother.” - -“Well, well, we shall soon reach the castle Di Albarone; we shall behold -our brave leader, the gallant Count Julian. By the body of God, it stirs -one’s blood to think of his charge, that ever mowed down the Paynim -ranks as though a thunderbolt had smote them! St. George! but I have -seen glorious days.” - -“By’r Lady, but I have a sneaking fear that the wound of the Count may -prove fatal.” - -“Fatal?” shouted Sir Geoffrey, in a voice of thunder. “Fatal? Say it not -again, Halbert! Fatal, indeed! By my troth, Lord Julian Di Albarone, -shall again lead _armies_ to battle.” - -“I wonder,” said Damian, “I wonder if that skulking half brother of the -Count, still lives? I mean, he who accompanied the Lord Julian to the -Holy Land, some score of years since. How was he styled? eh, Halbert?” - -“ALDARIN, I think they called him. Sir Geoffrey, hadst not a quarrel -with the bookworm? Didst not strike him before the Count at Jerusalem, -in the presence of all the princes of Christendom?” - -“Tush, a mere trifle! I mind it no more than I would the spurning of a -peevish cur. But see! What have we here? Two wayfarers. Ha! one seems -like a disbanded soldier! Spur forward, my merry men! They may tell us -of our whereabouts: they may give us some news of Albarone. Spur -forward!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. - -THE STUDENT AND THE FAIR STRANGER.[3] - - -The bell of the convent of St. Benedict struck the hour of noon, when a -young man, attired after the manner of a student, or Neophyte of the -monastic order, was slowly wending his way along the path that led to -the cottage on the hill, while on his arm, there hung a youth of a -slender yet graceful figure and with calm, mild features, shaded by -locks of golden hair. - -Tall, sinewy, and well-proportioned in form, the face of the Student was -marked by features bold and decisive in their expression; his blue eye -was full of thought, and his forehead, high and massive, shaded by the -cap of velvet, gave the idea of a mind powerful, energetic, and formed -to rule. - -His hair fell in clustering locks of gold over his neck and shoulders; -his plain tunic of dark velvet descended to his knees, revealing a -doublet of like material and color, worn underneath, fitting closely to -his manly form; while his throat was enveloped by a simple collar of -snow-white lace. - -His companion wore a neat doublet of light blue, fitting close around -the neck, scarce allowing the pretty ruffle that circled the fair throat -to be seen, and reaching half way down the leg, it was gathered around -the slender waist by a girdle of plain doe skin. His light hair was -covered by a hat, with the rim drawn up to the crown on one side, and -slouching upon the other, while it was topped by delicate white plumes, -fastened by a diamond broach. - -Winding amid the fragrant shrubbery that enclosed the path, the student -and his companion attained the top of the hill, and passing through the -small garden, they presently stood before the neat cottage, which, -shadowed by a spreading beech on one side, meeting the foliage of a -leafy chesnut on the other, was overrun in front by a fragrant vine, -that clomb over the timbers of the doorway, and twined round the -solitary casement; the broad green leaves quivering in the beams of the -sun, and the trumpet-shaped flowers swinging to and fro in the wooing -air. - -The student tapped at the door. It was opened by a woman somewhat -advanced in life, attired in the dress of a peasant, yet with a cross of -ebony strung from her neck. Her look was somewhat severe and stern, her -demeanor was commanding, and her figure still retained some remains of -youthful beauty. - -She started as she opened the door, and an unfinished word burst from -her lips. - -“Ah! Adr--tush! Leone, I mean--thou art early home to-day, my son.” - -“Mother,” said the student, “this is my fellow scholar Florian, son to -the Baron Diarmo of Florence. In yonder convent we pursue our studies in -one apartment side by side. An hour since, as we strolled through the -gardens adjoining the convent, my friend missed his footing, and -severely bruised his ancle. Our home being nearer than the convent, I -thought I could not do better then bring him hither. I need not commend -him to thy care.” - -“Thou art welcome fair sir,” the dame replied, with a kindly smile. -“Enter our abode; ’tis humble, yet ’tis sacred, for the bounty of the -convent bestows it upon my son and me, while he is preparing for the -priesthood. Come in, gentle Florian.” - -They entered the cottage, and the door was closed. - -No sooner had they disappeared than something rustled in the bushes and -the bow-legged vagabond, Francisco, emerged into the light. - -“Oh--ho!” he cried, “here’s a mystery. The convent allow old Mistress -Vinegar-face to reside on their land, in their cottage, while her son is -preparing for the priesthood! A likely story, by’r lady! I see it -all--’tis as I suppose--these two striplings, are those, for whom such -an immense reward has been offered in the neighboring towns and -villages. Will not gold line my pouch as well as any other wight’s--eh? -Via! Francisco! Vagabond no longer, but henceforth Signor Francisco! -Via!” - -Thus saying, he walked away with folded arms and a gigantic stride; and -as he stalked away, the tall Dollabella, the red-haired Theresa, and -black-eyed Loretta appeared from the bushes on the other side of the -cot, and, bursting into a loud laugh, they tripped after the swelling -“vagabond.” - -Meanwhile, within the cot, resting on a cushioned seat, the gentle -Florian submitted his foot to the hands of the dame, who drew off the -shoe and stocking, and applied ointment to the bruise; remarking, at the -same time, that the foot was one of the smallest, and the ancle one of -the prettiest in the wide world. - -The student glanced at Florian, and smiled. - -“Mother,” said he, “I must away to the convent. Methinks it were better -for gentle Florian to rest him here awhile. I will return anon, and -accompany my fellow scholar along the shores of the lake to the -monastery.” - -He kissed the cheek of the fair boy, and departed. Looking up into the -rosy face, and catching the glance of the bright blue eye of the modest -youth, the dame exclaimed, as she finished the dressing of the wound: - -“Fair sir, if it please thee to grace our humble tenement with thy -presence for the night, thou canst share the bed of my son. Methinks it -were best for thee not to stir hence until the morrow.” - -“I thank thee, kind lady,” the youth began, in a voice as sweet as -infancy. - -“_Lady_, say’st thou? I am but a peasant woman.” - -Florian blushed. - -“Nay, pardon me--I meant no offence. Indeed, it seemed--” - -The youth paused, while the blush deepened on his cheek. - -“Never heed it, fair sir. This way is Leone’s room. Mayhap thou wouldst -like to repose thee awhile.” - -Florian followed her into a small apartment, with a window toward the -east, a neat bed in one corner, a crucifix upon the wall, and a table, -on which lay a missal of devotion. - -The dame retired. - -Florian stole noiselessly to the door, and drew the bolt. Then seating -himself upon the bed, he covered his face with his hands, and the tears -stole between the fair fingers, fast and bright, like drops of sunlit -rain. - - - - -CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. - -THE CASTLE GATE. - -THE GROUP CLUSTERED BESIDE THE CASTLE GATE ARE STARTLED BY THE PEAL OF A -STRANGE TRUMPET.[4] - - -“Well-a-day! It’s a sad thing to dwell in this lonely place, now that -all of the ancient house are dead and gone!” - -“‘_Dead and gone_,’ sir huntsman! Where didst learn to shape thy words? -The Count Aldarin lives!” - -“By my troth, he does, good Balvardo; and a right quiet time we peaceful -folks have had for a day or so past. Here, have we no boisterous -merriment; no sound of your squeaking pipe or tabret awakes the silence -of these walls; no runlets of wine flow in the beaders of the banquet -hall. All is quiet and still. Thanks to Our Lady for’t!” - -“Such quiet and such stillness, i’ faith! Why, man, you cannot walk -along the solitary corridors of the castle, without trembling at your -own starved shadow. Didst ever see a place swept by the plague--all its -living folk carried to the grave-yard, leaving old Death to take care of -deserted chamber and lonely hall? Look around the court-yard of -Albarone, and ask your heart--if heart you have--whether a plague has -not swept this place? The saints defend me! it chills my soul to look -upon these lonesome walls!” - -“And I--look ye, gossips--I, Griseldea, tire-woman of my Ladye Annabel, -have never damosel or dame, for two score long years--I am two score and -six years, come next Mass o’ Christ, not an hour more, i’ faith--I have -never, for two score long years, felt so dead in heart as I do now! In -my Ladye’s bower lie her garments of price; the tunic of blue and gold -which she wore in her happy days; the white plume that once drooped over -her fair brow, the snow-white bridal dress--all, all are there! But -where is my Ladye Annabel? Grammercy, but these are doleful days!” - -“Blood o’ th’ Turk! Tell me, good folk, are ye paid to howl in chorus? -Hugo, didst ever hear such growling?” - -“Faith, they do growl, somewhat like a herd of untamed bears! Yet, -Balvardo, bethink thee--there’s reason for’t. W-h-e-w! When I think of -the queer things that have chanced within these few days, I might -wonder, I might growl; yes, Balvardo, I might growl, I might wonder!” - -“Here, for three long days, since my lord of Florence left the castle, -have we seen no sight of the Count Aldarin,” exclaimed the -huntsman.--“Mayhap he has buried himself alive--mayhap he has gone up to -heaven, or more likely he has gone to--’s life, what a stitch in my -side!” - -“Softly, softly, sir huntsman, softly! Wise folk speak not lightly of -the Count Aldarin. The rope on yonder gibbet swings loosely in the -summer wind--thy neck may be the first to stretch its fibres!” - -“Blood o’ th’ Turk, yet it does seem queer when one comes to think of -it! Not three days ago, it was nothing but ‘_saddle me your horses, -scour every road, bring back the traitor Guiseppo, and hew off his -caitiff head!_ _Now_--blood o’ th’ Turk, it puzzles me!’” - -“_Now_, sir Balvardo, the word is: ‘_Pay all respect to Guiseppo; honor -the youth as myself--he is dear to me in blood, dear to me in heart, -honor Guiseppo, he rules the castle in my absence_.’” - -“Sancta Maria!” cried the ancient tire-woman. “Tell me, gossip, tell me, -sir huntsman, how came this about?” - -“Not two nights agone, there enters the castle gate, a wandering palmer, -clad in rags. Not satisfied with asking alms at the hall door, he must -wander along the corridors of the castle, and prowl around the door of -the cell where the damsel Rosalind is imprisoned. My Count Aldarin’s -suspicions are roused: he flings the beggar’s robes from the palmer’s -face, and we all behold the--trim page Guiseppo!” - -“Wonder of all wonders! Now, I’ll never be astonished again in all my -life!” - -“Not even if any one should chance to believe the story of thy age, -which thou art wont to tell! Hugo, look at gossip tire-woman, how her -eyes are dropping from their sockets!” - -“There stood the page Guiseppo--there stood the Count Aldarin! Nice -group--eh! Axes and gibbets were the mildest things in our thoughts, -when my lord takes the page by the hand, smiles kindly, and leads him -away. An hour passes: the supper is spread in the banquet hall: my Lord -Aldarin appears, and with him comes Guiseppo, clad in garments of -cost--” - -“And then comes the word: ‘_Pay Sir Guiseppo all respect--honor him as -myself_.’ Is’t not so good gossip?” - -“By my huntsman’s word, it is even so! Now tell me, sir sentinels, -waiting at the castle gate, while the Count Aldarin is buried in the -depths of the earth, sir Hugo and Balvardo, sir steward and dame -Griseldea, all of ye servitors of Albarone, is not this matter enough -for a nine day’s wonder? By’r Lady, I never heard the like!” - -“Blood o’ th’ Turk, ’tis wonderful!” - -“W-h-e-w! ’Tis passing strange!” - -“Hist--Hugo! What sound is that? ’Tis like the tramp of war steeds!” - -“Hark! The peal of a trumpet! This is wondrous.” - -And for a single moment the strangely contrasted group gathered at the -castle gate, in the mild evening hour, stood motionless as statutes, -with the light of the setting sun falling over each face and figure. - -There was Hugo, with his vacant face and sinister eye, clad like his -comrade, Balvardo of the beetle brow, in glittering armor of Milan -steel, each standing breast to breast, as, with pikes half raised, they -listened to the trumpet peal swelling from the distance. There was the -bluff huntsman of the castle, his rugged visage affording a striking -contrast to the sharp features of the ancient steward, and the thin, -withered countenance of the tire-woman, standing near him, while all -around were clustered the servitors of Albarone, their gay liveries -flashing in the light of the setting sun. - -“Hark, Balvardo! The trumpet peal swells louder. I hear the trampling of -an hundred steeds. Up, up to the tower of the castle gate, and tell us -what is to be seen!” - -Balvardo hastily disappeared, and while the group clustered round the -lofty pillar awaited the result of his observations with the utmost -suspense, ascended to the tower by a staircase built in the massive -wall. - -“What dost see, comrade?” shouted Hugo; “The trumpet peal grows louder, -and I hear the tramp of war steeds pattering along the road to the -castle gate. What dost see, Balvardo?” - -“I see a strange sight, i’faith! Horsemen issue from the shadow of the -wood toward Florence--horsemen arrayed in strange robes, black as night. -I count one, two, three,--by my life, there’s thirteen o’ them, all -mounted on cream-colored steeds!” - -“Are they men-at-arms? Bear they a pennon at their head?” - -“Blood o’ th’ Turk, I see no men-at-arms! They are clad in long robes, -that fall sweeping almost to the very ground. Their robes are black as -the death-pall, yet are they faced with a goodly border of glittering -gold. Now the wind sweeps the robe of the foremost horseman aside. By my -sword, he is clad in the attire of a paynim dog! Loose, flowing -garments, with a belt of curious embroidery, while a dark turban -surmounts his swarthy form.” - -“Ride they towards the castle?” - -“They ride forward two abreast; the tall figure rides at their head. -Tramp, tramp--God send they be not wizards in disguise! A new wonder, -comrade; one of the party spurs his horse to the front--he is speeding -toward the castle gate! Blood o’ th’ Turk, he holds a trumpet in his -grasp.” - -“A trumpet, Balvardo? This should be the herald of the companie.” - -“He rides up the hill, he reins his steed on the very edge of the moat. -Hark, how his trumpet peals!” - -And while the shrill and piercing sound of the trumpet broke on the air, -the group listening beside the castle gate were startled by the sound of -a measured footstep. - -With one start they turned in the direction of the sound, and beheld the -person of the new comer. - -He was a young cavalier, with a smooth face, unvisited by beard, yet -stamped with the marks of premature and sudden experience, while his -slender form, clad in a jewelled doublet, was half hidden by the folds -of a sweeping robe of purple, that fell from his shoulders, varied by a -border of snow-white ermine. - -“It is _him_--the page Guiseppo,” murmured the huntsman. “Mark ye, how -changed he looks! His arms folded, and his merry face clad in a frown. -Well-a-day! The world is all bewitched, or I’m no sinful man!” - -“The page Guiseppo,” whispered the shrill-voiced steward. “Know ye not -his new title? ‘My Lord Guiseppo, Baron of Masserio’--nephew of the -Count Aldarin. Masserio is the name of one of the smaller baronies -annexed by my lord of Florence, to the domains of Albarone. ’Tis said -’twas confiscated to the state, because its master meddled with the -strange Order of the Steel, whose fame has been in our ear for these -four months past.” - -“Sir sentinel, canst tell me what means this peal of trumpet, this -clamor at the gates of Albarone?” - -As Guiseppo advanced and spoke, every one in the group was impressed to -the very heart with the change that had so lately passed over the -appearance and manner of the page. A score of years could not have added -more solemnity to his visage, or given a more deep-toned sternness to -his voice. - -In a moment the Lord Guiseppo--such is now his title--was possessed of -the cause of the clamor at the castle-gate, and was about to speak, when -the trumpet peal ceased, and the clear bold voice of the herald, broke -upon the air. - -“Peace to the Lord Julian of Albarone! My master salutes the gallant -knight and craves entrance into the shelter of his goodly castle! Peace -to the Lord Julian of Albarone!” - -“Be thy master, the Paynim Mahound himself, or the Devil his father--” -rang out the hoarse tones of Balvardo, from the tower above--“He is a -few days behind old Death in his salutation. Lord Julian of Albarone -sleeps in the Charnel-House.” - -“Then Sir Warder of the castle-gate, by thy soldierly courtesy, I pray -thee inform me--doth his brother, the Scholar Aldarin yet live?” - -“The _Count Aldarin_ reigns _Lord of Albarone_.” - -“Then I pray thee, bear the salutations of my master to the Count -Aldarin, and with his greeting bear this scroll!” - -“S’ life--here’s a net for a man to tangle his feet with!” the group -below heard the growling words break from Balvardo--“My Lord -Guiseppo”--he exclaimed aloud, looking from the window of the -tower--“What answer shall I make to this Wizard Herald of yon Paynim -band!” - -A sudden contortion passed over the features of Guiseppo, he raised his -hand wildly to his brow, and trembled as he stood beside the -castle-gate. The spasm-like expression that passed over his face, was -scarce human in its meaning, and the spectators started back with a -sudden fear. There are times, when the soul is shaken to its centre by -the fierce war of contending emotions, when the heart struggles with the -brain, while the reason totters, and the intellect reels on its throne. -A contest wild as this; seemed warring between the heart and brain of -Guiseppo, the new created Lord of Masserio. - -“One moment, good Balvardo--Hugo, I am faint--some wine, I prithee!” - -Hugo offered his arm to the tottering Guiseppo, and in a moment the Lord -of Masserio, found himself sitting on a rough bench of stone, within the -confines of the lower chamber of the Warder’s Tower, while Hugo stood -motionless before him, holding the brimming goblet of wine. - -“Thanks, good Hugo--retire a moment, and I will be my own man again--let -me think,” he muttered in a half-whisper as the Sentinel retired--“Its -like a dream--and yet the reality presses on my brain like a weight of -lead. I feel no joy in my lordship. Three little days--Saints of -Heaven--behold the change! Three days ago, a poor Page, journeyed with a -band of gallant soldiers! He disappeared, no one save himself knew -whither. He came to this castle in his Palmer’s rags and perilled his -life to rescue his Ladye-love. He was discovered--he already beheld the -object of omen, held above his head--he expected the axe--and Sancta -Maria! A coronet fell glittering at his feet. _His_ son--_his_ son! -Great God how dark the mystery! My brain whirls--the wine, ha, ha--the -wine.” - -“Sir Sentinel”--arose the voice of the Herald without--“Wilt thou bear -this scroll to the Lord Aldarin?” - -“And _she_ is yet imprisoned! _He_ my father! As God lives I’m bound to -stand by him to the death! Robin’s story--is it, is it true? The dark -hints of the men-at-arms, with their leader Sir Geoffrey--might not this -trumpet peal serve to unravel their meaning? The wine gives me nerve--my -brain whirls no more. And Adrian and Annabel--must I desert their cause? -Methinks I feel my heart strings crack, at the very word! And _he_ is my -father; _he_ loads me with favors, burdens me with kindness--” the half -crazed Guiseppo looked around the confined chamber with a fixed and -steady eye--“_I will stand by my father Aldarin to the death_”. - -“Sir Warden, this delay is far from courteous--For the last time, wilt -thou bear the scroll?” - -“Let the men-at-arms be ranged, along the castle gate--“spoke the -determined voice of Lord Guiseppo, as with a steady step and unfaltering -manner he issued from the lower chamber of the Warden’s Tower--“Call the -men-at-arms of his Grace of Florence, now loitering in the halls of the -castle, call the vassals of Albarone, silently yet hastily hither! Away -Hugo--and thou Sir Huntsman! Let it be done without delay. -Balvardo--mark ye, when I give the word let the drawbridge be lowered -and the portcullis raised. We shall see what manner of men are these -strangers--the Lord Aldarin shall judge them by their scroll!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE NINTH. - -ALDARIN AND HIS FUTURE. - -“IBRAHIM BEN MALAKIM SALUTES HIS BROTHER ALDARIN THE SCHOLAR.” - - -The beams of the declining day, glanced gaily thro’ the arched windows -of the Red-chamber, and the Count Aldarin paced with a hurried step -across the marble floor, and his chest rose and fell, and his cheek -flushed and paled, and now his voice was choked by rage, and again it -was clear and deep-toned with hate. - -“Baffled! and by whom? my own child. I have laid schemes--I have -planned, I have plotted, and all for Annabel--my daughter. And she -returns me--contempt and scorn. If, within the bowels of the earth, -there is a place of torture, a boundless, illimitable and ever burning -hell--if within the fire of the stars, there is written a Doom for the -Damned, then to the very hell of hell, then to the very Doom of the -Damned, have I sold myself, and all for thee, my daughter! What! a -tear?--Shall I play the woman?--No--I will brace me up!--I will show the -world the power of one who hates the whole accursed race. There was a -time when I could weep, aye and talk of feeling and prate of the -tenderness and humanity with any of them!--They gave me scorn, they -heaped insult upon me!” - -He looked around as tho’ he would compass the whole human race with his -glance, and an expression of demoniac hate came over his features while -he whispered between his clenched teeth. - -“_Have I paid the debt?_ Ha! ha! Let those who wronged me answer. _Have -I paid the debt?_ The man never lived who struck the meek Scholar and -saw another sun. Not one! not one!--Nay there was one. He scorned me -before the Princes of Christendom--it was at Jerusalem--I gave him scorn -for scorn--with his mailed hand he struck me to the floor! I swore -revenge--the steel was false, the dagger failed, but on his life and -heart have I wreaked vengeance, such as man never wreaked before! The -revenge of Aldarin must not be fed with the blood of his foe? No--by the -fiend--no! But with the very life drops of his soul! My victim fights -for the glory of Albarone. Little does he dream who now doth rule the -ancient house.--Miserable fool, he toils and wars far in Palestine--he -toils--he wars for _me_! _Me!_ his ancient, his sworn and unrelenting -foe! _Ha! whence is that noise? Ha! ha! Surely it is not a groan from -yon couch?_” - -Pausing for a moment, he eagerly listened, and again he spoke. - -“Let me gather my thoughts. Let me nerve my soul for the trial of this -night. The stake I hold in my hand is a fearful one--the hand that would -grasp the very secrets of the grave, the weird mysteries of Old Death, -should never tremble.” - -He paced the floor yet more hurriedly, and was silent for a few moments. - -“_It is the very night!_” he exclaimed, after a pause of intense -thought. “_The grand problem upon which I have bestowed my youth--my -mind--my soul--my all--will soon be solved. This very night completes -the thrice seven years. For thrice seven years has the beechen flame -burned beneath the alembic, in my laboratory; in war, in difficulty, in -danger, and in death, has the azure flame still burned on with undying -lustre. Unbounded wealth is mine!_ IMMORTAL LIFE. - -“In after-time, when long, long, centuries have passed away, men will -speak of the glory, the mystery--and perchance the crime--that encircled -the life of Aldarin the Scholar! And as the cheek of the listener grows -pale, I--I--will be there, also a listener and to the story of my own -fate! Aldarin will be there, but oh, how changed! Aldarin, no longer -weak, trembling, bent with age--but Aldarin, young and glorious, with -the signet of eternal youth and power stamped upon his unfading brow! - -“Gold, gold, the talisman that rules the soul of man, gold that buys -wisdom from the sage, Heaven from the priest, life from the leech, honor -from the mighty, and virtue from woman, GOLD will be mine.” - -Turning aside, Aldarin drew forth from a recess in the walls, a -parchment scroll richly illuminated, and covered with characters in the -Arabic tongue. He drew near the casement, and unclosed this scroll to -the light of the declining day, gazing upon the dark characters while a -singular agitation pervaded the lineaments of his face. - -It was the Book of his Belief--in which he had long ago written his -ideas of God and Man. Shall we look into these wierd pages, even for a -moment, and learn the nature of the Theology which gave shape and -purpose to the life of Aldarin? We will glance at a single page of - - -THE BIBLE OF ALDARIN. - - I. Who shall describe the incomprehensible Power, which gives life - and motion to the Universe? - - II. An Almighty Intellect, dwelling in the solitudes of infinite - space, and yet pervading all Nature, guiding by his silent and - overshadowing will, the courses of the stars, the fate of empires, - and the destinies of men, living for ever, the commencement of his - being, dated by a past eternity, the duration of his existence, - bounded by a future eternity, He is the SOUL OF THE UNIVERSE. - - III. Men have blasphemed this Universal Soul, with their vain - titles. They have mocked Him with vainer creeds. They have - enshrouded this simple Idea with a multitude of cumbrous - falsehoods. They have buried it in the Charnel house of festering - superstitions. Yet the Idea has survived, and lived, despite all - these systems of error. It can never die. It is written on the - heart of the new-born child, and cannot be erased, until you - destroy the body and kill the Soul of that child. Whether adored in - the shape of an obscene reptile--as in ancient Egypt--or in the - form of a marble image--as in Greece and Rome--the Soul of the - World is still worshipped, as the fountain of all life and motion; - his Thoughts the deeds of the Universe. - - IV. The Soul, from time to time, and at long intervals, has - enshrined his Being in flesh, and walked the earth in the form of - living man, and appeared among men,--the Incarnate Universe. - - V. As the sun gives forth light, and is not deprived of a single - ray, so the Universal Soul, sends abroad, beams of his existence, - which are at once, portions of his glory and eternity. These beams - of the Soul, are clad in forms of flesh, they walk the earth, they - share in the temptations and disquietudes of mankind. Or, they are - Spirits, invisible to the gross senses of clay, and yet dwelling on - the earth and sharing in the destinies of its people. Are they clad - in humanity? Then their knowledge of their Eternal Source is dim, - undefined, and only felt by broken gleams. Sometimes that Knowledge - comes upon them in all its power; they feel they know, that they - are of the Almighty Intellect, beams of his brightness and - pulsations of his heart. When this Consciousness bursts upon them, - they are men no longer, but Leaders of the human race, and are - known among men, as Prophets, Apostles and Redeemers. - - VI. Even in their worst state, when most beclouded by the appetites - and misfortunes of flesh, these Souls, born of the Universal Soul, - retain a consciousness, however dim, of their origin, a glimpse, - vague as it may be, of their destiny, and a portion, of the might - of their Creator and Father. - - VII. All men are not of the Almighty Soul, nor does every bosom - throb with a pulsation of the Universal Heart. - - VIII. Look abroad over the multitudes of mankind. Survey the Camp, - the Court, the Cloister. Traverse the world of humanity from the - kennel to the palace. What do you behold? - - IX. Yonder, by a river shore, an army marches, its ten thousand - spears flashing in the sunlight. Without a Leader, whose Soul is - the Soul of these ten thousand men, this army is powerless; it is - but ten thousand isolated links of a broken Chain. That Leader is a - Ray from the Soul of the Universe; a Ray beclouded by the gory mist - of carnage, yet still a Beam of the Eternal Sun. - - X. Go to the Palace. There is a King there, who sits upon a golden - throne, and drinks in the idolatry of cringing Courtiers, and - arrays his form, in a garment, whose very tinsel has been purchased - with the life blood of at least, a thousand men. This King rules an - empire, levies taxes, makes war and peace, holds life and death in - the hollow of his hand. He is only a Mock King after all; for as - you gaze more attentively upon the source and machinery of his - power, you will behold, far back in the shadows of his throne, some - Monk with a tonsured forehead, or some Scholar with a withered - face, and in the Monk or the Scholar, you in truth, recognize the - Real King. For the Monk, and the Scholar are beams of the Almighty - Intellect, darkened by sophistries or ferocious with superstition - yet still Pulsations of the Universal Heart. - - XI. One third of the world bows at the foot of the Cross. Another - third worships a Crescent. The last third gives its adoration to - images and creeds, as various as the faces of men. - - XII. Dive into your heart and seek the Cause of all this. Do you - find it in the magnificent temples; the armies of hired priests, - the volumes of Cumbrous rituals? This is the manifestation of the - Cause, or the corruption of the Cause, but not the Cause itself. - Seek deeper. You will find that this Cross is adored, because ten - Centuries and more ago, a Carpenter’s Son, felt the full - consciousness of his origin, even as he toiled in the workshop, - beside his peasant father. The Soul of that Carpenter’s Son, born - of the Almighty Intellect, lives even yet, although its purity may - be darkened by the Corruptions of earth-born Souls, and its power, - manacled by ten thousand arms and appetites of flesh and blood. And - thus, the Crescent is a symbol of the faith of millions, because - some centuries ago, an Arabian camel-driver, even amid the sand and - stars of a trackless desert, felt that he was a part of Eternity. - Track the other religions, to their sources, and you will find that - Beams of the Universal Soul, have appeared in forms of flesh, and - passed away, leaving no record but their system or their creed. - - XIII. Wherefore is there evil in the World? Wherefore does Good - always entwine itself with evil? Wherefore does the Simple religion - of the Carpenter’s Son, which said, hundred of years ago, that all - of truth was written in the words, Do unto others as you would have - others do unto you, now hide and bury itself, under the feet of - Popes, priests and monks, who say by their deeds, We do unto others - as we would not have them do unto us? - - XIV. It is a terrible question. Search your heart again. Question - the Seers of immemorial time. Descend into the Charnel. Ask an - answer from Death itself. Gather your soul within itself until the - Spirits of the Other World speak to you. - - XV. There is an answer to your question. Let us behold it. While - the Universal Soul dwells Supreme, there lives another Power in the - Universe. This Power is not eternal, and yet his existence appears - like an Eternity when compared with the years of earth. He is not - Omnipotent, and yet when compared with a mortal arm, HIS arm seems - to be invested with Almighty Power. He lived before earth was born; - he will live when earth and its creations are dead. He is at once - the FOE and the INFERIOR of the SUPREME SOUL. He has been ever, at - war with his Master he has defied his power, confounded his - Almighty Good with Evil, and marred the beauty of his works. This - inferior has been known by various names but a simple title, - expresses at once, his name and his nature. - - XVI. He is the SOUL OF EVIL. - - XVII. Behold a wonderous truth. - - When the UNIVERSAL SOUL, first imparted a portion of his being to - living forms, or, forms of flesh and blood, the SOUL OF EVIL, - marred his work, by creating other forms, unto whom he gave a part - of his own malignant life, impulse and destiny. - - XVIII. Do not hesitate. There is yet a more wonderous truth. These - forms, in which the SOUL OF EVIL, embodied a portion of his being, - resembled the forms, in which the UNIVERSAL SOUL, diffused beams of - his light and eternity. - - XIX. Through countless ages, the beings, born of Almighty - Intellect, warred with the beings, created by the Soul of evil. - - XX. At last, the children of eternity, clothed in flesh and blood, - mingled their lives and lives, with the offspring of the evil - Soul,--doomed to annihilation,--who were also clothed in flesh and - blood. - - XXI. The earth, on which we live was peopled by the generations of - this mingled race; a race composed of Good and Evil, of Eternity - and Death. - - XXII. In these words, given above, all the mysteries of life, are - explained. - - XXIII. Wonder no longer at the perpetual paradox, presented in all - ages by the human race. It is true that Good and Evil, fight an - eternal battle, in the heart of man. It is true, that the basest - have some consciousness of their Divine Origin; and that the best, - have some throbbings, to remind them of an infernal paternity. - Could it be otherwise? Man is made up, of two elements; he is the - Child of two distinct races. One is the race of Light and Eternity; - the other of Dark and Death. - - XXIV. There have been men, whose entire nature, has been formed - from the race of the Evil Soul. They have been called, Monsters, by - their fellow men, and their name, has passed into a Curse. - - XXV. There has also been men, whose entire nature, has been formed - from the race of the UNIVERSAL SOUL. They are called, Angels, - Demi-gods, by their fellow men, and their name is a Blessing. - - XXVI. Search into your own heart. Ponder--reflect--look deeper. - Digest these few plain truths, examine their proportions, as you - would measure the exactness of a pyramid. - - XXVII. Do you not discover the source of all the creeds, which have - divided mankind? - - XXVIII. Do you not discover the Key to the great mystery of the - Universe? - - - And beneath all this was written---- - - “_The Spirit of Jehovah is upon me to preach good tidings to the - poor, sight to the blind, peace to them that are bruised----and to - all men_ THE ACCEPTABLE YEAR OF THE LORD.” - -The last sentence, written not in Arabic but in Hebrew, and written by -another hand then his own, filled Aldarin with inexplicable emotion. - -“If these words spoken by the Nazarene are true, then is my whole life a -lie,” he said, and retired into the shadows of the Red-Chamber. - -When he came toward the declining light once more, his brow was -strangely troubled. - -“How strange has been the course of my life! Let me gaze backward over -the dark path I have trodden. This night thrice seven long years -ago--amid the gloom of the Syrian battle plain, a dark-eyed Arabian gave -me in ransom for his life, the book of his race, which he dared not -read. And there, in that lone hour, as midnight gathered over the corses -of the dead, did he sware by the Eternal Flame of the Fire-worshipper, -that in body or in soul, he would be with my heart, and by my side this -very night. THE BOOK spoke in words of fire of the secret, and--and--by -my soul I have heard no message from the Arab Prince for three long -years. He can not, will not fail me now!” - -The door of the Red-Chamber was flung suddenly open, and the Lord -Guiseppo hastily advanced, with an expression of deep gloom stamped on -his brow. He held a scroll of parchment in his extended hand. - -“Ha! My Lord Guiseppo, son of mine. I greet thee! Hast thou any message -for me?” - -“A strange man clad in Paynim costume, attended by a train of twelve, -attired strangely as himself, wait at the castle gate. He sends his -greeting and this simple scroll.” - -“A strange man clad in Paynim costume”--murmured Aldarin in a -whispering tone--“A scroll! Give it me, Guiseppo--Ha! What words are -these--_Ibrahim-Ben-Malakim salutes his brother, Aldarin the Scholar!_” - -A warm flush like a sudden glow of sunshine passed over the face of -Aldarin, his eye gleamed and brightened until it seemed burning its -socket, and the Scholar stood for a moment agitated and motionless. - -“Guiseppo!” he shouted in a voice of thunder as he turned towards the -youthful Lord--“Away, away, to the castle gate and answer the giver of -this scroll with the words--Aldarin greets his brother Ibrahim!” - -“And then my Lord Aldarin”-- - -“Lead the stranger to my presence!” - -And while Guiseppo turned to obey the behest of the Scholar, the Count -Aldarin, strode with a hurried step along the floor of the Red Chamber, -with his arms folded and his head drooped low upon his breast. - -There was a long pause of absorbing thought. - -“He comes--he comes, with the last scroll of THE BOOK! He comes with the -Charm, which in the hands of Aldarin shall wake the dead! When the last -scroll is read, when the last charm is spoken, then, then, Aldarin lives -forever! And Ibrahim--ha, ha, ’twere but fair that the blood of the -Priest, who first awoke this Idea within my bosom, should mingle with -the blood of the victims, slain at the shrine of the awful Thought.” - -A dark and meaning smile passed over the lip of Aldarin, and again he -communed with his own thoughts. - -A footstep sounded through the ante-chamber; in a moment the stranger, -tall and majestic, stood before the Scholar. - -“Ibrahim gives peace and joy to Aldarin!” - -“Peace and joy to Ibrahim-Ben-Malakim!” - -As thus they saluted each other, in the Arabian tongue the native -language of the one, and the familiar study of the other, Aldarin -advanced and gazed upon the stranger. - -His face was most impressive. - -Regular in feature, dark and tawny in hue, the countenance of the -stranger was marked by a high forehead, thick and bushy eye-brows white -as snow, giving a strange effect to the glance of the full dark eyes, -that looked forth from beneath their shadow: a compressed lip, half -hidden by the venerable beard, that well-nigh covered his rounded chin -and dark brown cheeks, and descended to his breast in waving locks, -frosted by age and toil. A cap of sable fur surmounting his forehead, -imparted a striking relief to the visage of the Arabian. - -His attire was simple and majestic. A mantle or robe of black cloth, -gathered around the throat, by a chain of gold, with a collar of -snow-white fur, fell in long folds to his knees, bordered by lace of -gold. As the robe waved suddenly aside from his commanding frame, it -might be seen that the tunic which gathered around his form, was -fashioned of the finest velvet glistening white in color, with a border -of strange and mystic characters, his legs were encased in dark hose, -and slouching boots of doe-skin, glittering with the knightly spur of -gold. - -“Thou art changed, Ibrahim!” - -“And _thou_ Aldarin!” - -There was a long pause, while the Scholar and the Arab Prince perused -each others features. When they again spoke it was in the rich Arabian -tongue, each word a word of fire, each sentence a thought of wild -enthusiasm. - -“Twenty-one years, this very night, on the battle-plain amid the Syrian -wilds, an Arab prince owed his life to the intercession of Aldarin the -Scholar. He offered the Scholar gold for his ransom--the scholar refused -the proffered dust. Speak I the truth, Aldarin?” - -“Thou dost!” - -“Struck by the noble nature of the thoughtful Italian, the Arab prince -gave him a gift priceless in value, not to be bought with gold, or -purchased with gems of price! A Book--a mighty book had descended to -him, through a long line of gallant ancestors. The founder of the race -of Ibrahim was a man of dark thoughts, and mysterious studies. Swept -from the path of life in the midst of his mystic researches, he left THE -BOOK to his children, with the last and most terrible Mystery, the final -Charm, which gave importance to the whole volume, confided to their -trust, in unwritten words--” - -“These words thou wouldst speak to mine own ear and heart?” - -“Even so, brother Aldarin! When I gave thee the Book, fraught with -strange mysteries, a fearful oath, sworn by every son of the race of -Ben-Malakim, bound me to keep the last words, which make the book -complete, secret from thine ear, until I was assured thou hadst won the -merit of the confidence.” - -“Thou didst swear by the Eternal Flame, that thou wouldst meet me this -very night, in the soul or in the body, living or dead.” - -“I am here! The far-east rings with the fame of Aldarin the Scholar--the -last secret is thine!” - -“This night, at the hour of midnight, over the Altar of Marble, where -the Heart of the Dead mingles its crimson-drops with the White Waters of -the Alembic,--there,--will I crave the last Secret at thy hands!” - -“There is one condition first.” - -“Name it!” - -“Lo! it is written in the Scroll which contains the Priceless Secret. -The Prince of Ben-Malakim must be a spectator in the lone chamber where -the SECRET is carried into action; he must command in the Halls of the -Scholar, who may receive the mystery, while the solemn ceremonies named -by the Book, are in progress.” - -“The condition is strange--yet”-- - -“So read the words of THE BOOK!” - -“Its behests shall be obeyed.” - -“Then Scholar, and friend, let the twelve warriors who follow in my -train, take the place of the sentinels at the castle-gate; let them -command in the castle-hall, and be obeyed as thyself until the morrow -morn!” - -“It shall be done. And now, my brother, draw near to the casement; let -the warm glow of the setting sun fall over thy features I would look -upon thy face, as was my wont in the ancient time. By my soul, thou art -sadly changed--fearful wrinkles traverse thy countenance, thy hair and -beard are gray; thine eyebrows white. A sad and fearful change!” - -“The touch of time falls heaviest on the man of thought, good Aldarin. -Thou too, art sadly, fearfully changed.” - -“And yet this night shall crown the toil of twenty-one years, with a -boon almost beyond mortal hope. Yes--yes,” he continued in a deep -whisper, as the full glow of the setting sun fell over his face--“The -sun sinks down in glory; his beams fall over the form of the mortal -Scholar--Lo! his beams gild the sky on the morrow morn and--how my -nerves fire, my heart is full to bursting--ALDARIN LIVES FOREVER.” - - - - -CHAPTER THE TENTH. - -THE SCHOLAR ALDARIN AND THE LORD GUISEPPO - -THE LAST INTERVIEW BEFORE THE GRAND SCENE, FOR WHICH ALDARIN HAS TOILED, -STRUGGLED AND ENDURED, FOR THRICE SEVEN YEARS. - - -“Come hither Guiseppo, son of mine, let me look upon thy face. Ah! I -remember well--her countenance lives again in thine. Boy, walk by my -side, along this solitary chamber; I would converse with thee. Hast thou -not oftentimes thought me a dark and stern old man?” - -“My Lord, I have. The story of the soldier,--Rough Robin----” - -“Name not the slave! Name him not. Have I not scattered his fable of -lies, to the winds? Art not satisfied with the guilt of this--Adrian? -Speak Guiseppo--have I not told thee a fair and truthful story?” - -“I fear me--oh! Saints of Heaven--I fear me--that thy story is true!” - -“Thou _fearest_ that my story is true! Is this well Guiseppo? Wouldst -rather thy _father_ had been guilty!” - -“_My Lord_--” - -“‘_My father_’ would sound as well.” - -“My father, then; an’ I may speak the name; I thank God from my very -heart that I know thee guiltless. Yet I had much rather--the Saints -witness my truth--I had much rather, this spot of blood were washed from -the garments of all who bear the name of Albarone.” - -“And do I not join in the wish! oh Guiseppo--Guiseppo Di Albarone, for I -will call thee by thine own true name--look upon me, mark my face, gaze -in mine eye! Thou hast known me for years, a man prematurely old, bent -with age ere the sands of my manhood’s prime had fallen in the glass. -Thus hast thou known me Guiseppo.” - -“I have my Lord,--my father, and wondered at the cause.” - -“Yet hast thou ever noted the change, the fearful change, that has -passed over this face within a few brief days? Dost mark the pallor of -this cheek, the blaze of this eye? Dost see this forehead seamed by a -single wrinkle between the brows; dost note these wan and wasted -features?” - -“Yes, yes my father, I do. What hath wrought this fearful change?” - -“Canst thou ask? A mighty grief has been swelling the channels of my -soul--grief for the _crime of Adrian_, grief that _his_ hands, the hands -of the son, should be red--dripping with his own father’s blood.” - -He paused--covered his face--there was a moment of voiceless agony “and -yet, even in this hour of agony, the resemblance, the sad resemblance, -which has haunted me for years, comes back to my soul--” - -“The resemblance, my father?” - -“Boy, I tell thee, thy face is like the face of--Even now I see it!” - -“Father?--” - -“The face of thy mother!” - -“I tremble my father; mine eyes are wet with burning tears. Tell me--oh, -tell me of _her_--my mother.” - -“Twenty years ago, a nameless Scholar, who disdaining the din and battle -of war, gave his soul to higher and purer thoughts, won the love of a -proud and peerless Ladye. They might not wed, for she was the scion of a -Royal line. It was evening, boy, calm and gorgeous evening--well do I -remember the scene--when the proud Ladye gazed from the portico of a -kingly palace, over the temples and the towers of Jerusalem. The glow of -sunset was streaming over her face, and her full dark eyes, kindled with -the grandeur of the scene, when, when--listen Guiseppo,--her boy, her -bright eyed boy, lay prattling on her knee. The Scholar stood by her -side--he was silent, for his heart was full--oh, God! methinks I see -myself as _I was then_, even through the long lapse of years--” - -“Thyself! The boy, who was’t--the boy?” - -“Listen; hear the sequel of this dark story. There, there, concealed by -a column of that lofty portico, listening to the words of love that -broke murmuringly from the lips of the Ladye, gazing upon the face of -her bright-eyed boy, all smiles and laughter, there, unknown and -unsuspected, stood the Fiend and the Destroyer. Guiseppo--pass thy hand -over my brow--see, see, even after the lapse of twenty years, the cold, -beaded drops, like death-sweat, stand out from my forehead at the -memory.” - -“I am breathless, my father--the Destroyer who stood listening--he -was--” - -“Guiseppo, Guiseppo, let me whisper a world of horror to thine ear in a -single word. The light of the setting sun, fell over thy--thy mother’s -face, proud, peerless and beautiful--her child prattling on her knee, -her lover by her side--the first beams of the morrow’s sun beheld her -form, her form of grace and loveliness, flung prostrate over the marble -floor of her chamber--_outraged, bleeding, dead_.” - -“Oh, God! my brain whirls! And the Destroyer?” - -“Was a knight, a leader among the Princes of the Christian Host who won -Jerusalem from the Paynim legions. He had been scorned, rejected, -despised by the Ladye--thy mother--and behold,--oh fiend of hell--behold -his vengeance!” - -“His name? Who--who--swept this devil from the earth?” - -“He lives!” - -“_Lives?_ and thou couldst wield a dagger!” - -“Boy, wouldst thou wreak full and terrible vengeance on the ravisher of -thy mother?” - -“Sate he upon the throne, slept he within the bridal chamber, knelt he -at the altar, I would sacrifice the wretch, to the Ghost of the -betrayed--” - -“To thy knees, to thy knees, and take the oath of vengeance.” - -“I kneel, father, I kneel. The oath, the oath!” - -“What manner of oath dost thou hold most sacred? Wilt swear by the -Cross, by the Holy Trinity, by the Death of the Incarnate, or by the -awful existence of God?” - -“BY MY MOTHER’S NAME.” - -“Place the cross to thy lips, raise thy hands to heaven. Swear--by the -Holy Cross, by the Awful Trinity, by the Incarnate God--by thy Mother’s -Name--that when thy eye first beholds the wronger and the ravisher, thy -dagger shall seek his heart.” - -“I swear--I swear!” - -“Though he sate on the throne, though he slept within the bridal -chamber, though he knelt beside the altar!” - -“I swear--I swear!” - -And the hollow echoes of the Red-Chamber gave back the -echo--“Swear--swear!” - -It was in sooth, a strange and impressive scene. - -The dim light afforded by the lamp of silver, pendent from the ceiling, -glimmering over the hangings of the fatal bed, along the folds of the -tapestry and around the massive furniture of the room--the figures of -the scene, the aged man and the kneeling boy; Aldarin with his face -agitated by contending passions, with his eye gathering a brightness -that seemed supernatural, while Guiseppo half prostrate at his feet, -raised his hands to Heaven and with every feature of his countenance -darkened by revenge, looked above with flashing eyes as he uttered the -response--“I swear--I swear!” - -It was a strange and impressive scene--and the flitting shadows that -fell over the hangings of the bed and along the floor, seemed to start -into life at the deep earnest tones of the Avenger. - -“The name of the Destroyer--my father--his name--his name!--” - -The Count Aldarin stooped low, applied his lips to the ear of Guiseppo -and whispered in a quick and hissing tone, the name of the Destroyer. - -The kneeling Lord turned pale as death, as with a trembling voice he -repeated the well known name. - -He bowed his head on his breast, and clasped his hands in very agony. - -“My fate,” he shrieked, “is dark--oh Father of Heaven, most dark!----” - -“Rise Guiseppo, my son,” said the Count Aldarin in a commanding tone. -“Rise Guiseppo, Lord of Albarone!” - -“My father--your look is serious, and yet you utter but a merry jest. -Methinks it ill becomes the hour.” - -“Guiseppo, Aldarin never deals in the jester’s wares. No--no my son, I -do not jest. Listen Guiseppo, and hear the solemn determination of my -soul. The events of these few brief days; the fearful death of my -brother, the knowledge that THE SON was the MURDERER; the flight of -my--my daughter; all have conspired to confirm that determination. I -have resolved to retire and retire forever from the world. Not within -the gloom of the monastery, not within the shadow of the cloister, does -Aldarin seek refuge from the sorrows of the world. No--no. - -“Within the shadows of the most secret chamber of the Castle, (dead to -the world, unseen by living man, save thee Guiseppo, and yet companioned -by those Holy Men who this very night, arrived at Albarone, from the far -eastern lands,) in penitence and in prayer will Aldarin seek to win -favor from heaven for this--this--wretch, this father-murderer. -Guiseppo--I charge thee--let men believe me dead, and when thy right to -the Lordship of Albarone is questioned, speak boldly of the favor of his -Grace of Florence. He will defend the castle from wrong and shelter thee -from outrage.” - -“My Lord--my father, this is a strange determination! I beseech thee do -not burden me with the rule of the Castle.” - -“It must be so Guiseppo! From this night henceforth, Aldarin is dead to -the world. Whene’er thou wouldst say aught with me, a sealed parchment, -placed within a secret drawer arranged in the side of the beaufet, will -reach my hands.--And mark ye--let not a single day pass over thy head, -without looking into the secret drawer of the beaufet.” - -“This is most wonderful! I ever thought thee a bold, ambitious man, and -now I behold Aldarin whom all men name with fear, retire from the world, -without a sigh.” - -“One word more, Guiseppo. When thou hast stricken the blow--when the -Destroyer of thy mother’s honor, lies low in death, then, then, hasten -to the Round Room--thou hast heard of the chamber?--and within the -solitudes of its silent walls, read this pacquet--it contains the -fearful story of thy mother’s wrongs.” - -“Forgive me, forgive me, my father--” shrieked Guiseppo, as if struck by -some sudden thought--“Swayed by some alternate affection for thee as--my -father--and regard for Adrian as--my friend, I have locked within the -silence of my bosom an important secret--_Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword -has returned from Palestine_.” - -Had a thunderbolt fallen at the very feet of Aldarin, he could not have -started more suddenly backward, or thrown his arms aloft with a wilder -gesture. - -“Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword, returned from Palestine!” he -shouted--“where is he now? How far from the Castle? How many soldiers -ride in his train? Was the murderer Adrian with him?” - -“Father--it was his band I left, when disguised as a Palmer, I hastened -toward the Castle. He lurks within the recesses of the mountains, some -score of miles away--three hundred men ride in his train--Adrian, whom I -believed guiltless, is with him.” - -“Did he speak aught of attacking the Castle Di Albarone?” - -“After a lapse of seven days, it was resolved to attempt the surprisal -of the Castle. From the vague hints I gathered, it seems that their -plans were not well matured. Three days of the seven are now passed, -and--” - -“The attack will be made four days from this! By my Soul! it pleases me! -Ha--ha--ha--Guiseppo, remember thy oath, the steel and the pacquet.” - -And as he spoke, the Count Aldarin strode toward the door, his face -flushed by a wild glow of exultation, as he communed with himself in a -low, murmured tone. - -“Four days--ha--ha--ha! Four days glide by--and ALDARIN IS IMMORTAL.” - -Guiseppo was alone. - -He gazed vacantly through the gloom of the Red Chamber and passed his -hands over his eyes, as if in the effort to awake from some fearful -dream. - -All was solemn and silent around him, and he resigned his soul to dark -memories, while the weary moments of that fearful night glided slowly -on. - -At last he sank down on the cold floor and slept. - -A vision of his mother, his own beautiful and dark-eyed mother, rose -smiling above the waves of sleep, and then the boy thought she stood -beside him, holding a dagger in her fair white hand, while she beckoned -him on to the work of vengeance. - -He awoke. - -His form was pinioned in the embrace of a woman’s arms, and a woman’s -face hung over him, its large and lustrous eyes, mingling their light, -with his own. - -“Rosalind!” he shrieked as he sprang to his feet with -surprise--“Rosalind here, in this lone chamber!” - -“I am here--” she exclaimed as she fell weeping on his bosom--“’Tis a -strange story Guiseppo, but--my heart feels chilled when I think of the -fearful scene, which made this Red Chamber a place of death. An hour -ago, I slept within the bower of the Ladye Annabel, which the Count -allotted for my prison, when a strange figure, clad in robes of sable, -strode into the chamber, and bade me enjoy my freedom, as he pointed to -the open door! I hastened along the corridor, I descended the stairway, -and sought refuge in this chamber, from two dark figures who seemed -pursuing me, when I found thee, Guiseppo, flung prostrate along the cold -floor, and--” - -“Thou didst watch over me, when sleeping, love of mine? Thy prison hath -not stolen the bloom from thy cheek or the fire from thine eye.” - -As he spoke the door of the Red Chamber was flung suddenly open, and the -aged Steward of the Castle rushed to the side of Guiseppo, with hasty -steps and a disordered manner, shouting as his gray hairs waved in the -night wind-- - -“A message, Lord Guiseppo--a message of life and death! The Count -Aldarin sends thee this--read, and read without delay--for I tell thee -’tis a scroll of life and death.” - -Guiseppo perused the scroll, and---- - -The spirit of the Chronicle beckons us on to the most dark and fearful -scene of the Historie.[5] - - - - -CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. - -THE WHITE WATERS OF THE ALEMBIC. - -ALDARIN AND IBRAHIM, GATHERED WITHIN THE CONFINES OF THE ROUND ROOM, -HOLD THEIR SOLEMN WATCH, WHILE THE LAST SECONDS OF THE MYSTIC AGE ARE -PASSING TO ETERNITY. - - -“Tread lightly and with a softened footstep, Ibrahim, for the place in -which you stand has been the home of the deathless Thought for -twenty-one long years! Look--how the azure flame ascends in tongues of -flame around the sides of the hanging alembic--it is the last night of -its existence! On and on, through calm and cloud, through sunshine and -shadow, for twenty-one long years has it silently burned--a little -while, and the sands in yon glass will be spent--the Thought springs -into birth, and the azure flame will be quenched forever.” - -With his slender form elevated to its full height, his arm extended, and -his robe thrown back from his shoulder, Aldarin the Scholar glanced -around the room, while his gray eye flashed and brightened as though his -very soul looked forth in its glance. - -His brow was calm, clear and unclouded; his compressed lip wore an -expression of fixed determination; and a slight flush pervaded his pale -countenance. - -The light of the pendant lamp fell over the form of the venerable -stranger, his dark-hued face, with the thick eyebrows, the waving hair, -and the flowing beard, all snow white in hue, standing out boldly in the -ruddy beams, while his dress of sable, relieved by the border of -glittering gold, gave solemnity and dignity to his appearance. - -He stood calm and erect, gazing with his eyes of midnight darkness, upon -the strange altar, with its ever-burning flame of azure, or fixing his -glance upon the wild and speaking features of Aldarin the Scholar. - -“Advance, Ibrahim--advance to the altar of marble”--exclaimed the -Scholar, with all the proud consciousness of the possession of a POWER -beyond the reach of the mass of mankind--“Gaze within the alembic--what -see’st thou?” - -“I see a liquid clear as crystal, calm, motionless, and unruffled. The -most gorgeous mirror might fail to rival its shadowless brightness. The -alembic is heated to a white heat, yet the liquid bubbles not, nor -seethes, nor wears any appearance of the effect of heat. It is -beautiful--most beautiful.” - -“Every drop is worth a life. Within the recesses of this altar another -flame, fanned by a subterranean current, burns beneath the Crucible, -which at last will give forth the Secret of Gold.--Gaze upon yon hour -glass, Ibrahim--the glass standing upon the corner of the altar--” - -“The sands have fallen to within an half-hour of midnight--” - -“When the last grain of sand falls in the glass, then will be complete -the mystic age of toil. The waters of life will then be pure, the secret -of gold will then be perfect. Twenty-one years will then have past since -first, I set me down to watch yon never-ceasing flame. Twenty-one -years--earth never beheld such years--each day an age, each year an -eternity!” - -“Thy toil hath been most difficult!” exclaimed Ibrahim, in his -deep-toned voice--“the end draws nigh!” - -“It was in that home of magnificent thoughts and mighty memories--the -city of Jerusalem, that the Glorious Thought dawned upon my soul!-- - -“‘To live forever,’ I cried as I gazed upon the wide city, with its -palaces and towers basking in the sunlight--‘to pass beyond the years of -mortal men, to exist while whole nations sink down to the slumber of the -grave, while kings succeed kings and millions of the mass of men glide -away on their inevitable march to the grave! To live forever--to feel -life throbbing in my veins, health flooding my very heart, and youth, -eternal youth crowning my brow, when Old Earth shall have been stamped -with the footsteps of ten thousand years--oh glorious boon, oh guerdon -worthy an age of toil!’ - -“I sought the boon when first I trod the Syrian soil, but my search was -wild and vague--yon massive volume was placed in my hands--” - -“And then, the search became clear and distinct?” - -“Yes--yes! Truth after truth dawned upon me, ingredient after ingredient -was added to the contents of the alembic,[6] and mad man that I was----but -stay a moment, Ibrahim. Gaze again upon the liquid of the alembic, -and tell me what thou see’st?” - -“The same clear and undimmed liquid, resting calm and motionless within -the depths of the vessel.” - -“Behold yon circular glass, resting beside the parchment scroll, on the -corner of the altar. It will magnify an insect until it swells to the -dimensions of the huge animal that haunts the forests of the far deserts -of India--the elephant, methinks ’tis called. Apply the glass to thine -eye, and gaze within the depths of the vessel.” - -“A strange and magnificent spectacle! The clear liquid spreads out into -a magnificent lake, calm, unshadowed and rippleless. Yet stay--’tis -shadowed by a small island floating in the centre, an island composed -of some unknown substance, black as jet, yet scarcely perceptible even -through the wondrous medium of this glass!” - -“When that speck of jet shall have vanished, then will the charm be -perfect!--I have said that I was rash and indiscreet--let my story -witness. I disregarded the words of the Book, I thought twenty-one years -too long and weary a time for me to sit in solemn silence while I -watched the progress of the Secret. A few words in the volume hinted -darkly and vaguely at a consummation of the Thought, attainable by one -bold grasp--that grasp I made--yes, yes, though my very soul was shaken -to the centre, and my brain reeled in the effort--I--I--_killed her_!” - -“Killed her? Great God, what dark confession is this!” - -“Yes--yes--I killed her, killed her as she slept in my arms and smiled -in my face. I drove the steel to her heart--I dabbled her long dark -locks in the warm blood that gushed from her bosom! Nay, start not man, -nor turn aside with such sudden horror--hast not perused yon -volume--know’st thou not the mystic words--“_The pure blood, warm from -the heart of her thou lovest, more than aught in earth or heaven, poured -into the liquid floating within the mystic vessel, will do the work of -years in a single hour_--” - -“And she--she was thy”-- - -“My wife, my wife! My own, my dark-eyed Ilmeriner. Her blood, the pure -current of her very heart, purpled the White Waters of the -Alembic--and--and, fool that I was, I would not even wait the hour of -trial, I drank the liquid, greedily, and with loud exclamations of joy I -drank, and paid the price of my rashness. I neglected to use the -microscopic glass; the black speck had not vanished from the surface of -the liquid. I lay for days insensible; when I awoke to reason I found -this frame grown prematurely old. Had I but waited the little hour, the -draught would have infused immortal life into my veins. I was -rash--hasty--wild with the madness of my joy, and the draught proved -poison.” - -“All thy efforts then were foiled.” - -“I was foiled, but I did not despair. Again I built the fire on the -altar, again I added ingredient to ingredient; the corses of the dead I -searched for the last and most powerful Charm; years passed, and the -consummation of the Idea of my life approached, when--Fiend of Hell--I -discovered that the price of my rashness was not yet paid! As I pored -over the leaves of the mystic volume, a fearful thought, expressed in -dim and shadowy words, sunk in my very soul”-- - -“Methinks I see some new horror, lowering over the cloud of guilt and -blood that darkens the sky of thy life.” - -“Blood, there was, yes, yes, but no guilt. By the Awful Influence that -has ruled my life, there was none! The Martyr of the Christian, strides -to the stake, that is to cut short the brief thread of his puny life, -with a few moments of pain, suffers, dies and is glorified. Is there no -glory for Aldarin! Have I not also been a martyr? There there, ever -before me, was the ONE GREAT IDEA, leading me on, and on, filling me -with high hopes and grand thoughts, that all pointed to the final good -of mankind--” - -“Thou didst at first dream the Secret would benefit the mass of men? -Ha--ha--thou wouldst have made the MOB, immortal!” - -“It is past, the dream is past. Yes, yes, Ibrahim I join in thy laugh. I -would have made the MOB immortal! Ha--ha! The multitude, what are they? -Now the autumn leaf, blown to and fro by the wind; now the hurricane -that a breath may raise; to-day all sunshine, to-morrow all storm and -cloud! THE MOB! To-day, they strew palm-branches in the path of the -Nazarene, and send their hozannas echoing to the sky,--‘Hail, hail king -of the Jews!’ To-morrow, the Nazarene stands bound and pinioned in the -halls of Pilate and their cry,--the cry of the Mob--comes shrieking -through the casement ‘_crucify, crucify him!_’” - -“This in truth is the many-headed mob.” - -“Have I not been a Martyr! Others have offered up their blood at the -shrine of their Faith. I, I, have given the very blood of my soul! I -have made a sacrifice of love; love such as man of thought alone can -feel; I have rushed beyond the boundaries of thought, that confine the -opinions of common men; I have dared the vengeance of the Faith beside -whose altars I was reared; the arm of the God, whose existence was -imprinted on my brain from infancy; I, I have dared the most terrible -doom of all--the remorse of my own soul!” - -“The words of the Scroll--what were they?” - -“Hast thou ne’er perused yon volume of Fate?” - -“A fear of the terrible mysteries inscribed on its pages, ever deterred -the Princes of Ben-Malakim, from the perusal of the Mystic volume.” - -“A dark passage on the Scroll, vaguely hinted that in _case the_ Seeker -failed, in the first bold experiment, in case the life _drops_ of _her_ -dearest to his heart, were spilt in vain, then, another sacrifice was to -be offered, ere the Crystal Waters would be undimmed by the speck of -jet--and, and--_Ibrahim, behold yon funeral urn_.” - -“It stands upon the shelf, amid a heap of massive volumes, and -time-eaten parchments. What means this funeral urn?” - -“I cannot, cannot tell thee now. But Ibrahim listen--after long care and -thought, care and thought such as never wrinkled the brow of mortal man -before, I have arrived at certain, fixed principles of belief. These -principles relate to the consummation of the Secret--the last Charm -which will make it complete--the manner in which the Water of Life is to -be tested, ere it is imbibed by mortal man. The Last Roll of the Mystic -Volume, which thou hast borne from the far east, may confirm these -principles or declare them _false_, but can teach Aldarin nothing. -Look, Ibrahim, the sands have fallen to within the fourth part of an -hour of midnight! Give me the last Scroll, I would read.” - -Ibrahim drew the scroll from his breast. - -It was a massive roll of parchment, sealed at either end with an -intricate seal of dark wax, stamped with strange characters. - -Aldarin eagerly extended his hand, he seized the scroll, he tore the -seals from either end, and unrolled the time-worn parchment. - -And there, while with trembling hands and a flashing eye, the Scholar -glanced over the strange Arabic characters, there noting his every -glance, his every gesture, stood the solemn stranger, his eye dark as -midnight, gazing with one fixed look upon the face of Aldarin, as though -he would peruse the contents of the scroll, from the changing expression -of the reader’s countenance. - -It was strange to note the contrasted gestures of the Scholar and the -stranger, as the few last minutes of the mystic age wore slowly on. - -While the Scholar eagerly perused the ancient manuscript, his eye -gradually acquired a radiance and intensity of expression that seemed -supernatural; his lip trembled; his quivering hands rattled the timeworn -parchment; until the Round Room echoed with the sound. The Prince -Ibrahim-Ben-Malakim started aside, and raised his hands to his brow with -a sudden gesture as tho’ he wished to stifle some bitter memory, or -nerve his soul for the accomplishment of some fell purpose. - -“AWFUL SOUL OF THE UNIVERSE!” shrieked Aldarin as he shook the parchment -aloft, in the wildness of his joy--“I thank thee! I thank thee! All--all -is written here--the principles of my belief are--true! Yes--yes! The -last charm--the method of the trial of the Secret--the raising of the -mighty dead--all, all are here! Ibrahim--Ibrahim, give me joy! Lo! I -unveil to thy gaze the secret of the funeral urn!” - -And with wild steps, and hasty manner, Aldarin strode across the oaken -floor, he uncovered the funeral urn, he placed his trembling hands -within its depths. - -“Behold”--he shrieked--“Ibrahim behold the sacrifice!” - -Ibrahim looked, he beheld the upraised hand of Aldarin, but he dared not -look again. - -Thrilled with horror at the sight, he, veiled his face in his hands, -while Aldarin strode hurriedly toward the altar. - -All was still as death in the Round Room. - -“Listen, Ibrahim, listen!” exclaimed Aldarin--“Hark! how the red drops -fall pattering into the white waters!” - -Ibrahim listened in horror, but dared not look. In a moment, the funeral -urn, again enclosed the object of horror, and the voice of Aldarin broke -whispering on the air. - -“Ibrahim, brother of mine, haste thee to the altar--seize the -microscopic glass and gaze upon the white waters of the alembic! I dare -not--I dare not gaze upon the working of the charm!” - -And as Ibrahim raised the glass to his eye, Aldarin stood with his back -to the altar and his face to the wall, his wild eye glaring on vacancy -while he counted the last seconds of the mystic age by the motion of his -trembling fingers. - -“The sands of the glass have fallen to within ten minutes of midnight,” -exclaimed Ibrahim. “I gaze upon the white waters of the alembic! They -spread before mine eyes in a calm and silver lake. The surface is -crimsoned by waves of blood--the island of jet enlarges and widens!” - -“Waves of blood--the island of jet widens!” shrieked Aldarin. “Two -minutes of the ten are past! Oh, fiend of doom! can the charm prove -false at last?” - -“The waves of blood are dying away; the black substance diminishes in -size!” - -“Art sure, good Ibrahim? Gaze again upon the waters: do not, do not -deceive me!” - -“The waters are colored with a purple dye.” - -“It hastens--it hastens! Ha--ha! So read the words of the book! Why dost -pause, Ibrahim? Four minutes of the ten are past!” - -“The object of black still diminishes; and now the purple hue of the -waters is fading away!” - -“My heart--my heart is bursting; I cannot, cannot breathe! Ibrahim, -Ibrahim, tell, oh! tell me, what hue do the waters assume? Thou art -silent! I dare not turn and gaze with mine own eyes; do not mock me -thus, Ibrahim!” - -“A calm lake, cloudless, waveless, and beautiful opens to my gaze. The -waters are clear as crystal. No shadow dims their unfathomable -brilliancy, no object of blackness floats upon the surface. The sands -have fallen in the glass--” - -“Speak, speak, Ibrahim, or I will fall to the floor! Is there no shadow -resting upon the surface of the white waters?” - -“None, by my soul, none!” - -“Then--then--Aldarin--is--immortal.” - - - - -CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. - -THE TRIAL OF THE WATERS OF LIFE. - -“AS THE SANDS OF THE THIRD HOUR SINK IN THE GLASS--THE DEAD SHALL -ARISE.” - - -Arising in tongues of flame from the floor of stone, a fire of crackling -wood, cast its ruddy glare around the Cavern of the Dead; flinging -glimpses of blood-red light along the earth-hidden roof, and imparting a -strange appearance of warmth and life, to the hideous figures, scattered -along the pavement of the vault. - -Turned to burning red by the full glare of the flame, the gigantic -Figure of Stone, which gloomed above the Mound of Death, seemed starting -into life, as with arms thrown wildly aloft, and downcast eyes, it -surveyed the strange spectacle extended beneath its stony gaze. - -Ascending from the cavern floor, a square tent, for by that name alone -it may be designated, formed of curtains of jet-black leather, gave -three of its sides to the glare of the flame, while the fourth was wrapt -in shadow. - -The hangings of black leather were inscribed with strange and contrasted -characters, fashioned in shapes of glittering gold, while from the -aperture at the top, where the roof of the tent should have been placed, -there arose, lurid folds, columns of smoke, winding upward to the far -off ceiling of the cavern. - -Near the tent of embroidered leather, arose a small, square and compact -structure of ebony, in shape resembling a table, designed to serve the -purposes of an altar. - -On the top of the altar of ebony was laid an hour glass; a funeral urn, -and a phial of glittering silver; a massive volume of time-eaten -parchments; with an unbound scroll, falling to the very floor of the -cavern. - -Within the compass of a fathom’s length from the tent of leather, was -erected the fire of oaken wood which threw its ruddy glare around the -spot, and flung vivid though flickering glimpses of light into the -distant recesses of the cavern. - -And there in the lone cavern, beneath the frown of the Demon-Form, with -the blaze of the oaken fire, disclosing their faces and figures in bold -and strong relief, there, while the hours of that fearful night, dragged -heavily on, watched and waited Aldarin and Ibrahim the Son of the -Kings[7]. - -Ibrahim, calm, solemn and erect, stood beside the Altar of Ebony, his -sable attire, his dark hued face, with the gray hair, the white -eye-brows and the flowing beard disclosed in the light, while he gazed -in wonder and awe upon the immensity of that cavern, where the last and -most terrible scene in the Mortal Life of Aldarin, was to add another -legend of horror to the teeming Archives of Albarone. - -With slow and measured steps, Aldarin paced the pavement of the cavern, -in front of the sable tent. The light of the flame revealed his face, -pale and colorless, stamped with an expression, calm and immovable it is -true, yet fraught with strange and mysterious meaning. - -“It is a dark and gloomy place--dost not think so Ibrahim?” exclaimed -the Scholar advancing to the side of the Arab-Prince. “Look around! -Behold the flashes of flame-light falling along the floor of the dread -cavern, giving a lurid glare to the ceiling as it arises above our -heads, like an earth-hidden sky, or casting their ruddy glare over the -face and form of yon dark figure of giant rock. Is’t not a dark and -gloomy place, Ibrahim?” - -“Here, along this gloomy cavern, might the warrior of a thousand battles -walk and tremble as he walked, without the blush of shame for his coward -fear. As I gaze around upon the dark mysteries of this funereal vault, -methinks I behold the demons of the unreal world, clustering around me, -laughing in my face, or mocking my very soul with their gestures of -scorn!” - -“Here will the last scene in the Mortal Life of Aldarin, startle the -very gaze of yon dark dread face of stone. Tell me Ibrahim, how long -hast thou waited in this solemn vault.” - -“Twice have I turned your hour glass since first we entered the -cavern--it wanes toward the third hour after midnight.” - -“Thou hast not asked me any question concerning these dark hangings of -embroidered leather. Thou hast not asked me why yon dark and lurid smoke -winds upward from the confines of this sable tent. Nor hast thou spoken -a word in relation to the secrets of this Tabernacle of Life--so the -Book calls the sable tent.” - -“Ibrahim has waited the pleasure of Aldarin.” - -“Then listen, dark Arabian, when I tell thee--the dead, the mighty dead -shall live again!” - -“These words are mysteries to me!” - -“Read yon mystic scroll, Ibrahim, and all shall be as the light of day -to thee--read those words of fearful knowledge.” - -And with a faint and trembling voice, the Arabian gave to the air of the -Cavern, the dim and mysterious words of the scroll: - -“_Lo! The Waters of Life are free from stain or pollution of earth. -Wouldst thou prove them pure? Within the hollow of the coffin-like -vessel of iron, place the remains of the Sacrificed and pile the fire of -beechen wood around. When the iron pales from red to white, then warm -the Heart of the Sacrificed with the white waters of the Alembic--when -the heart throbs, then let it mingle with the Corse of the Coffin, and -Lo! As the sands of the third hour sink in the glass--the dead shall -arise!_” - -“There--there--within the Tabernacle of Life,” shouted Aldarin, with an -upraised arm and kindling eye--“There rests the Corse of the Sacrificed, -there ascends the fire of beechen wood heating the coffin of iron to a -white heat--within the confines of yon funeral urn, rests the Heart, and -the phial of silver by its side, contains the priceless Waters of Life. -Behold the sands of the third hour are falling in the glass--a little -while and----how the thought stirs my very soul--the dead will live -again!” - -“The dead?” echoed Ibrahim with a gaze of wonder--“How meanest thou, -Aldarin?” - -“Must I then, unclose the darkest place in this seared bosom to thy -gaze? Man, I tell thee--his form--the form of my brother shall live -again!” - -“Thy brother--Awful God!” whispered the Arabian in a tone, whose horror -may not be described--“Thy brother then was thy last victim?” - -“Pity me, Ibrahim, pity me!” shrieked Aldarin. “Swayed by two mingling -and opposing motives--the one, ambition for the welfare of my child--the -other, the all-absorbing desire for the Immortal Life on earth; but a -few short days ago, I beheld approach the last moment of the Mystic Age -of Toil. Then--then, I first learned the necessity of the fearful -sacrifice, and--I drugged the bowl of death.” - -“This is too horrible for belief!” muttered Ibrahim; “Now--now my soul -is firm for the work of the night!” - -“Was I to falter when the hour of fear and doom drew nigh?” shrieked -Aldarin, as his slender form rose proudly erect, and his impassioned -face shone in the full light of the flame. “Was I, I, who had strode on -to the guerdon of all my toil, unfearing and undismayed, though the dead -body of my wife lay in my path, though the hopes of my heart fell -withered and dead around me, while the spirit of my love for _her_, -plead and plead in vain for pity; was I, ALDARIN, to spare the blow, -when that blow would crown my earthly ambition, and complete my immortal -toil? Ha--ha! The thought is vain!” - -“Hadst thou no mercy?” - -“In such a cause, I answer _none_. I tell thee man, had my brother -pleaded for his life, and sprinkled my feet with his tears,--had he -pleaded for his life in the calm, soft tones of childhood, the tones -that brought back the memory of those days when our arms and hearts were -interlocked--had he sprinkled my feet with such tears as wet this seared -face, when I rescued him from the waters of the river that rolls without -these walls, some thirty years ago--then even then, I could not have -spared him! No, no, no! It was to be, and it was!” - -“He shall rise from the dead, thou sayst? In what form shall he appear?” - -“Fair, and young, and beautiful; youth shrined in his heart and power -throned on his brow! His mind will be fresh with new-born vigor, yet -Memory of the Past, shall never darken his bosom! The babe is not more -unconscious of its pre-existence in another and a far-off world, than -will be Julian my brother of the Past, with all its darkness and doom.” - -“How dost thou know, that he will arise in this form?” - -“Spoke the Nazarine truth, when he said, ‘Faith can remove mountains?’ -The Will of the Soul, armed with the consciousness of its immortal -powers and infinite sympathies, can do more! THE WILL, determined and -inflexible, can bend the invisible mysteries of the universe to its -bidding, call up the fearful influences, ever at work within the bosom -of Nature, and chain them, slaves of its power; bind the wild elements -of man’s heart in subjection, and awe the souls of the multitude, when -aroused by passion, or maddened by revenge. THE WILL can sway the heart -of man, to the windings of a path, dark as the way I have trodden, -leading the Soul onward through mystery, and doom, and blood; teaching -it to trample on Fear, laugh at the ghastly face of Remorse, and scorn -the uplifted arm of God! ‘Faith can remove mountains!’ I cannot, may -not, at this fearful hour, trace the operations of the Invisible Might. -Suffice it to say--Aldarin wills that the Re-created shall walk forth in -a form of youth and power, and it shall be so.” - -“Lo! The sands of the hour glass are well nigh spent. One-half of the -last hour alone remains!” - -“I will gaze within the Tabernacle of Life!” - -Aldarin advanced, swept the sable hangings aside, and in a moment was -lost to view. - -Ibrahim also advanced to the front of the Tabernacle--as the mystic -jargon of the Scholar named the tent--and listened with hushed breath -and absorbing interest. - -He could hear the subdued hissing of the flames within the Tabernacle; -he could hear a low, scarce perceptible sound, like the seething of -boiling lead; and a penetrating perfume of mingled frankincense and -myrrh, saluted his senses, mingled with the odor of decaying mortality. - -A single moment passed while Ibrahim listened, and then he advanced to -the verge of the vast fire, burning on the cavern floor, and stood for a -moment wrapt in stern and solitary thought. - -Clasping his hands across his chest, he drooped his head low upon his -bosom, while the trembling lip and dilated eye attested the violence of -the struggle at work within his inmost soul. - -He raised his head and looked round. - -Tall and erect--the ruddy glow of the fire, streaming over his majestic -face, disclosing every outline of his imposing costume--the Arabian -gazed around, and beheld the stern sublimity of the cavern of the dead. - -Save the hissing of the flame, all was silent. - -Not a word, not a whisper. Silence dwelt supreme, the Spirit and the -Divinity of the place. - -Far, far, above, the cavern roof, extending like a sky, received on each -rugged projection, the ruddy glow of the flame. Long belts of flickering -light were thrown along the pavement of stone, for a moment revealing -the strange and fantastic forms scattered around the dim walls of the -vault, in strong and startling relief; and then again the fire would -suddenly subside, leaving everything, save the floor in its immediate -vicinity, wrapt in thick darkness. - -“A strange fancy,” murmured Ibrahim, “Me-thought I saw yonder statues -moving to and fro,--a wild delirium of my fancy.” - -“It throbs--it throbs--it palpitates.”--a deep-toned, yet wild and -thrilling voice broke the silence of the cavern--“Look, Ibrahim, how the -Waters of Life, hasten the completion of the Mighty Labour!” - -Ibrahim hurriedly turned and beheld Aldarin, standing beside the Altar -of Ebony, grasping the phial of silver in one hand, while with the other -he raised on high the Secret of the Funeral Urn, that may not be named -by man, or written down on this page, lest incredulity should smile in -ignorant scorn, and shallow unbelief, make a mock of the Dark Fanaticism -of the Past. - -“It throbs--it throbs--it warms with life!” again shrieked Aldarin, as -he rushed within the confines of the hangings of sable--“Lo! The coffin -of iron is heated to a white heat; the charm hastens to perfection!” - -“Mine eyes are cheated by vain delusions!” muttered Ibrahim, “But a -moment agone, and methought the arabesque figures were flitting to and -fro, and now--as I live, there ’tis again--I behold dim shadows gliding -round yon funeral pile?” - -As he spoke the fire waned, and a sudden darkness, only relieved by -faint flashes of light came down like midnight upon the cavern. - -Ibrahim looked around and beheld Aldarin standing near his side, holding -an open missal in his hand, which disclosed a hollow casket--instead of -the emblazoned leaves of a book of devotion,--glittering with a gem that -shone through the gathering darkness like a star. - -And as the Arabian looked he beheld Aldarin apply the mouth of a small -silver phial which he held in his hand, to the surface of the gem, while -a meaning smile stole over his face. - -The fire blazing on the cavern floor, lighted up with sudden vigor, and -white columns of smoke, rolling from the silver phial, gathered in -waving folds above the head of Aldarin, and swept far away, like the -wings of a mighty bird, until they encircled the giant outline of the -Demon Form, towering far, far overhead. - -“Ibrahim, my brother,” cried the voice of Aldarin, “I would welcome the -Arisen-Dead with sweet perfumes and fragrant incense. ’Tis thus the Book -commands!” - -He looked forth from the cloud of smoke that enveloped his form, and -started in surprise as he beheld the erect form of the Arabian. - -The chemical spell, from whose influence the Scholar had defended -himself, took no effect on the form of the Arabian Prince. - -“The all-penetrating essence of the dead pervading the cavern and -imbuing the atmosphere, renders the spell powerless!” he murmured with a -frown of impatience. “And yet Aldarin and his new-risen brother must -have no witness of their mighty mysteries! Though he had a thousand -lives, still must he carry my secret where ’twill be safe--to--ha, ha, -to the grave!” - -“The sands of the glass are falling,” cried Ibrahim advancing, -“one-fourth of the last hour alone remains!” - -“And while that fragment of time is gathered to eternity, the -Water of Life is darting like lightning through the body of the -dead--and--and--yet hold a moment, good Ibrahim! Dost thou not envy my -immortal career? Dost desire to drink the Water of Life? Lo, the flagon -is at thy command--drink, Ibrahim, and become immortal!” - -“Drink I will!” exclaimed Ibrahim with a meaning smile, as he took the -flagon in his grasp which the Scholar had substituted for the phial -containing the Water of Life--“Drink I will, but first I will give thee -a proof of my power!” - -“Thy power? I am all amazement--” - -“Learn, mighty Scholar, that the children of the race of Ben-Malakim, -hold the power of calling up from the silence of the grave the spirits -of the dead or, summoning from the uttermost parts of the earth the -spectres of the living.” - -“These are idle words. Ibrahim, thou triflest with me!” - -“Aldarin gaze around thee--all is dark and indistinct, the fire has -burned to its embers, and the cavern beyond is wrapt in shadow. Aldarin, -cast thy memory backward over the scenes of thy life, and tell me--which -of thine enemies wouldst thou summon before thee in this scene of -gloom?” - -“He will drink the flagon at last,” muttered Aldarin; “I’ll even humor -his whim. I would behold the forms of two slaves, whom I hate as darkly -as my soul can hate. I would behold”--he whispered the names between his -clenched teeth--“summon the slaves before me, if thou can’st!” - -“Lo! it is done,”--shouted the Arabian--“Spirits of Ben-Malakim, -appear--in the name of God, appear!” - -“I hear a hushed sound like the tread of armies,” murmured Aldarin--“Yet -all is dark around me.” - -Scarce had the words passed from his lips when a dim yet lurid light, -issuing from an invisible source, streamed around the cavern, and the -face of Aldarin, tinted by the ghastly radiance, was stamped with an -expression of wonder and awe. - -Around, on every side, gathered along the rude pavement, shoulder to -shoulder, a shadowy multitude stood dimly revealed in the lurid light, -with dusky and immovable faces looking from beneath the shadow of sable -helmets, ponderous with waving plumes. - -And as Aldarin looked, the cavern was for a single moment wrapt in the -darkness of midnight. - -The gloom was again succeeded by the lurid light, and before the very -eyes of the Scholar, gazing him sternly and fixedly in the face, stood -two warrior forms, motionless as statues. - -One was a stern old knight, clad in glittering armor, with long waving -locks of snow-white hue falling far beneath his helmet, along his -venerable countenance and over his iron-robed chest. - -The other wore the appearance of a bluff soldier, next in rank to an -Esquire, for he was clad in attire of substantial buff, with the rugged -outline of his unplumed cap, surmounting a massive forehead, seamed by -wrinkles and hardened by battle-toil. - -There was something intensely horrible in the wild glow of triumph with -which Aldarin regarded the spectres. - -“Ha--ha! The vulgar hind, whom this hand consigned to darkness, arises -to swell the triumph of the Scholar! But the other form--’tis the form -of my mortal foe! He comes in spirit to look upon the glory of Aldarin! -A few brief days and over his heart and brain will blacken the vengeance -of the Scholar--vengeance such as never shadowed earth or darkened hell. -Away with these phantoms, Ibrahim--my brain is ’wildered with too much -joy--away!” - -Through the gloom, he advanced toward the figures, he reached forth his -hand, expecting to grasp the intangible air, when it rattled against the -rugged plates of iron defending the breast of the venerable warrior. - -The echo of the rattling armor was returned by a clanking sound that -rang to the very cavern’s roof, a sound like the clashing of a thousand -swords. There was a brief yet fearful pause. Aldarin held his breath and -his hands clutched convulsively at his throat. - -“Behold,” shouted the voice of Ibrahim, “behold the spectres by the -light of a thousand torches!” - -And at the magic word, the Cavern of Albarone was all alive with light, -the light of a thousand torches, grasped by the mailed hands of -warriors, while the stalwart forms of the men-at-arms, gathered in one -dense and sombre multitude along the pavement of stone, rose clear and -distinctly in the ruddy beams, and their sable plumes waved like a -forest in the air. - -Aldarin looked from side to side--he passed his hand wildly over his -forehead, he strove to arouse his soul from this fearful dream. - -It was no dream, Great God of Truth and Vengeance! it was no dream. - -On every side the gleam of arms broke on the eye of Aldarin; on every -side the frown of warlike visages met his gaze; and his glance was -returned by the ominous glare of a thousand eyes. - -The spell broke--the reality sank down upon the soul of Aldarin. - -His face was stamped with an expression that brought to the minds of the -gazers the horror of a soul plunged into eternal torment from the very -battlements of heaven. He extended his right arm with a wild gesture, -and clenched the hand until the sinews seemed bursting from the skin: -his lips parted; his jaw sank to his very breast, while his full gray -eye glared like the eye of the tiger at bay, rolling its glance from -side to side, dilating every moment, and flashing like a meteor. - -“Ibrahim--Ibrahim--I am betrayed!” he shrieked, turning to the Arabian. -“Albarone to the rescue!” - -He turned to the Arabian, he beheld him standing calm and erect beside -the altar of ebony. He advanced to his side, and as he raised his hand -to grasp the robe of the stranger, he started backward with a howl of -despair whose emphasis of horror may not be described in words. - -The snow-white beard, the gray hair, the white eye-brows, fell from the -tawny face of Ben-Malakim, and Aldarin beheld the visage of--_Albertine, -the Monk_. - -Then it was that the soul of the old man sank within him, then it was -that he raised his trembling hands aloft, shaking them madly in the air, -while a wild yell of execration burst from the Phantom Band. - -“Men of Albarone!” arose the shout of the gray-haired knight; “Behold -the murderer of your Lord!” - -“Behold the brother-murderer!” shrieked the stout yeoman, standing at -the side of Sir Geoffrey. “These eyes beheld him hug his brother in the -foul embrace of murder!” - -And as he spoke the band of men-at-arms came pressing slowly and -solemnly on, glittering swords flashed in the light, and low muttered -cries of vengeance broke on the air. Closer and more close they -gathered, while Albertine stood silent and motionless regarding the -scene. - -“The sands have fallen to within five minutes of the time!” madly -shrieked Aldarin. “The charm may yet be complete!” - -He wildly turned from the advancing knights and yeoman, he turned -towards the Tabernacle, he heeded not the cries of execration that arose -on every side, he trembled not at the frown of the Demon-Form towering -far, far above. - -He turned towards the Tabernacle, he was about to rush within the folds -of the sable hangings, when he started back to the very breast of Sir -Geoffrey o’ th’ Long-sword, with a wild exclamation of joy. - -There, before his very eyes, in front of the sable tent, stood a -youthful form, clad in a dress of glittering white, his arms folded on -his breast, while with his face drooped on his bosom he gazed fixedly at -the visage of Aldarin, and as he gazed the night-wind played with the -floating locks of his golden hair. - -“Behold, behold, men of Albarone,” shouted Aldarin, with a wild laugh of -joy, “your lord hath arisen from the dead! Before your eyes he stands, -calm and mighty; youth in his heart, and power on his brow! Ha--ha--ha! -I did--I did slay him! But I have raised him from the sleep of death! -Behold--ha, ha, ha!--behold!” - -A breathless stillness followed his words. - -“Slave of thine own wild delusion,” exclaimed Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ -Longsword, as he advanced, “thou art gazing upon the form of Adrian Di -Albarone.” - -“The avenger of his father’s blood!” shouted the form, advancing to the -light. “Murderer, behold thy doomsman.” - -Aldarin bowed his face low on his breast, and veiled his eyes in his -hands, while a sound like the death groan rattled in his throat. His was -no common agony. His was no mortal sorrow. His bosom trembled not with -the throes of grief for the wife stolen by death, or the child torn from -his embrace by unknown hands; the tears he wept were not visible tears, -pouring from his eyes along the furrowed cheek. No, no. - -His soul wept within him, tears such as giant souls alone can weep, when -a mighty THOUGHT is slain, when the IDEA of a life is crushed. - -“Avengers of your lord, advance,” shrieked Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ -Longsword; “advance, and seize the murderer!” - -Aldarin turned; a thought flashed over his soul. - -Three minutes of the last hour yet remained. The sands of the glass had -not yet fallen. That little shred of time gained, he might yet complete -the charm; the mystic age of toil might yet be rewarded by the immortal -boon. - -He flung himself at the feet of Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword; yes, yes, -the proud and unrelenting Aldarin threw his form prostrate on the cavern -floor, and, with upturned gaze, clutched the knees of the knight. - -“Give me, give me but three minutes of life--three minutes alone, and -then ye may lead me to the death.” - -The knight trembled: he had been prepared for scorn and defiance, but -not for tears. - -For a moment he hesitated. - -“Away with his magical pranks, away with his works of hell!” arose the -shout of the stout yeoman, as, with one rude grasp, he tore the tented -hanging of the Tabernacle from the poles which supported their folds. -“St. Withold! what infernal cookery have we here? Thus, thus I scatter -the magical fire--thus I overturn this coffin of iron! Gather around, ye -men of Albarone: scatter the works of this demon along the floor of the -cavern!” - -It was the work of an instant. - -While Sir Geoffrey trembled: while the monk Albertine stood beside the -altar of ebony, veiling his face in his hands; while even Adrian, the -son of the murdered, hesitated and paused, ere the request of Aldarin -was refused, the men-at-arms, led on by Rough Robin, overturned the -coffin of iron, heated as it was to a white heat, and scattered the -embers of the fire over the floor. The nameless secret of the coffin he -concluded beneath the dark hangings of the Tabernacle. - -Aldarin slowly arose to his feet. All emotion had vanished from his -face. Stern, calm, and fearless, he gazed around. He looked over the -vast expanse of the cavern roof, he marked the dread face of the DEMON -FORM towering far above, he gazed upon the hurrying forms and agitated -faces of the men-at-arms. - -“Lead me, lead me to my death--” spoke the fierce tones of Aldarin the -scholar. “I scorn and defy ye all.” - -Albertine, the monk, still clad in the dark robe and majestic attire of -Ibrahim Ben Malakim, strode suddenly to the side of the scholar, and -thrust a parchment roll in his hands. - -“Man, I betrayed thee,” he whispered, in tones that attested his agony; -“Man, I betrayed thee, though my heart smote me in the act. Yet I will -not scorn thee in this thy final hour. The parchment, the -parchment--grasp it with a grasp like death; the phial, the phial!” - -He turned, and continued in a loud voice, audible to the avengers: -“Sinner, receive this book of prayer; it may comfort thy final hour.” - -Aldarin took the parchment, and calmly folded it to his bosom. - -“I scorn ye all,” he shrieked. “I defy your vengeance, I dare the doom -ye would inflict. Aldarin fears not death.” - -“To the gibbet with the murderer,” shouted Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ -Longsword. “Aye, upon the same gibbet where blacken the forms of the -brave soldiers of Lord Julian, there let the miscreant expiate his -crimes.” - -And the men-at-arms echoed the shout, until the vast cavern roof -resounded with the words of doom: “To the gibbet--to the gibbet with the -fratricide.” - -In a moment the cavern was left to silence and eternal night. - -Never since that fearful hour has human foot trode the funeral vaults of -Albarone. - -Along dark passages, through subterranean corridors, and up tortuous -stairways, poured the flood of men-at-arms, bearing with them the -scholar and fratricide. - -At last winding through the same passages traversed three hours agone by -Aldarin and Ibrahim, passing through the chemical laboratory, which has -never been disclosed to the eye of the reader, the crowd of avengers -reached the Round Room. - -The altar was overturned, the books and parchments torn from the -shelves, yet the scholar quailed not, nor uttered word of lamentation. - -Gloomy corridors were then traversed, massive stairways ascended, the -hall of the castle passed, and at last Aldarin emerged from the castle -door, and stood upon the slab of stone surmounting the flight of steps. - -He gazed around, while the avengers came thronging at his back; and as -he gazed, the court-yard of the castle became the scene of a strange -spectacle. - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH. - -THE OATH. - -THE VENGEANCE OF ALDARIN, THE SCHOLAR. - - -“It is a fair day, and the sun shines brightly. Ha--ha! The sky above is -clear, and the earth seems laughing with joy in the very face of day!” - -Aldarin smiled as he spoke, and gazed above. It was the hour of early -dawn. The first beams of the sun shone over the eastern battlements of -the castle, mellowing the azure sky with their radiance, while the fresh -and balmy air of the summer morn fanned the burning forehead of the -Scholar. It was the last time he would behold the beams of the dawning -day; it was the last time his burning brow should be freshened by the -kiss of the morning breeze, and yet he smiled. Aldarin gazed around. - -A yell of horror broke upon the summer air, and far along the court-yard -extended the living sea of men-at-arms, arrayed in their sable armor, -mingling with the vast crowds of the peasant vassals, all fired by the -same instinct of bloodshed. The beams of the rising sun shone over a -thousand maddened faces, as every voice swelled the shout of vengeance, -and every hand shook in the light some weapon of death and vengeance. - -Look where he might, on every side, the gleam of flashing eyes met the -gaze of Aldarin; all along the court-yard the blackened mass swayed to -and fro, like the waves of the ocean in a storm; and again heaven gave -back to earth the combined yells of innumerable voices, mingling -together in that fearful sound--the shout of a vast body of men, -maddened and crazed by the impulse of carnage. “To the gibbet!” arose -that shout of doom. “To the gibbet with the brother-murderer!” - -With one glance Aldarin surveyed the scene around him. - -There, grouped along the steps of stone, stood the stout yeoman, his -brow wearing a steady frown, as, with his sword half drawn from the -scabbard, he gazed upon the face of Aldarin; there stood two figures -veiled in robes of sweeping sable, while--near his side--the erect form -and venerable face of the knight o’ th’ Longsword confronted the -Scholar. - -“Sir knight,” exclaimed Aldarin, with a smile wreathing his pinched lip -“though ye are somewhat hurried in your work of doom, I would make one -brief request, ere I am borne hence. Is there no one in all this crowd -who will bear a message from me to my son, the Lord Guiseppo?” - -“That will I,” exclaimed the sharp-featured steward of the castle, -advancing from the crowd. “Guilty thou mayst be, and thy hands stained -with a brother’s blood, yet the request of a dying man may not be -refused.” - -“Give me the scroll.” - -Aldarin bared the withered flesh of his left arm: he drew a poignard, -small and delicate in shape, from his girdle, and while the crowd looked -on in wonder and in fear, he stained the point of the stilletto with his -blood. Another moment passed, and with the dagger’s point, hurriedly -traced certain characters on a small slip of parchment which he also -drew from his girdle. - -“Bear this away,” he shouted, “bear this away to the Lord Guiseppo, and -tell him that his father is on his way to the gibbet.” - -“Man of blood and crime,” exclaimed Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword, as he -advanced to the side of Aldarin, “thy life has been full of dark and -fearful mystery; hast thou no dying words of repentance to speak, ere -the cord tightens round thy neck? It is not well to dare the presence of -God, with so much blood upon thy soul.” - -Aldarin bowed his head low on his breast, and the bystanders whispered -one to the other that the dreaded old man was wrapt in thought. - -“A confession I have to make--dying words of repentance I have to -speak,” exclaimed Aldarin, as he gazed upon the crowded castle yard. - -“Thou dost remember, Sir Geoffrey, that twenty years ago we saw each -others faces in the wilds of Palestine?” - -“I do, I do!” exclaimed the knight, as a mingled expression of bitter -memory and deep feeling passed over his wrinkled visage. “Twenty years -agone, we saw each other’s faces within the walls of Jerusalem.” - -The sound of a hurried and uneven footstep broke upon the air, then a -wild shout echoed from the castle hall, and in an instant, the Lord -Guiseppo rushed from the hall door and confronted the Scholar Aldarin, -his face pale as death, his eyes rolling madly to and fro, while his -trembling right hand shook the parchment scroll above his head. - -“This scroll, my father: what means its words of omen? Yon blackning -crowd--their looks of vengeance--what means it all, my father?” - -Aldarin advanced, and flung his arms around the form of his son, -gathering him to his heart in the embrace of a father. - -And as he gathered him to his heart, he whispered a few brief words in -the ear of the Lord Guiseppo, those words thrilled the youth to the very -soul; for his eye flashed brighter than ever, and his cheek grew more -deathly pale. - -“Thy oath--thy oath!” hissed the hollow whisper of Aldarin. - -Guiseppo turned suddenly round, he flung himself at the feet of Sir -Geoffrey, and looked up into his face with a voice of anguish, as he -shrieked. - -“Spare my father--spare, oh! spare the weak old man!” - -“Though the angels of God plead for his life, still must he die!” - -“Then die, wronger and betrayer! Then die, midnight assassin and -ravisher! The spirit of my mother nerves my arm and points the steel!” - -And as the words fell from his lips, ere an arm could be raised, or a -word of horror spoken, Guiseppo sprang to the very throat of the knight, -grasping his long gray hair with one hand, while with the other he -inserted the glittering dagger between the armor plates of his victim, -and drove the steel down from the left shoulder to the very heart. - -It was the work of a moment; the lightning flash might not be swifter, -nor the thunderbolt more sudden. - -One instant the spectators beheld the kneeling youth, and the warrior -waving his hand with stern determination, as he turned from the prayer -of mercy; the next moment their eyes were startled by the upraised -dagger, and the blow of vengeance. - -The knight tottered heavily to and fro, looked vacantly around, and then -sank into the arms of Robin the Rough, with the haft of the dagger -protruding from the armor plates of his left shoulder. - -“Father!” shrieked Guiseppo, shaking wildly above his head, the right -hand, the hand that winged the dagger. “Father, my mother is avenged; -behold the doom of the ravisher!” - -“Thou hast done well!” spoke Aldarin, in a quiet, yet trembling tone, -while his lips wore an even smile. “Boy, thou hast done well! Now, -Guiseppo, read, read the pacquet--the pacquet in thy bosom.” - -And while the horror-stricken spectators--Robin the Rough, the figures -in sable robes, the peasant-vassals, and the men-at-arms--remained awed -into a fearful silence by the scene,--the silence that ever precedes the -march of death,--Guiseppo thrust his hand within his bosom, drew the -pacquet from its resting place, and with his trembling fingers broke the -seal. - -“Man of guilt and bloodshed,” exclaimed the dying knight, as he -convulsively placed his hands on the wound near his heart. “I am -dying--my heart grows cold, and mine eyes are dim--thy vengeance is -gratified; now, now, tell me--” - -“Hadst thou ever a child, Sir Geoffrey,” interrupted Aldarin, advancing -to the side of the knight: “a fair-haired and soft-voiced boy, whose -smile was thy joy, whose presence was thy sunshine?” - -“Speak, speak--what knowest thou of my boy?” gasped the dying knight, as -a look of agony passed over his face. “‘Tis sixteen years since I beheld -his face in the land of his birth, the city of Jerusalem. He was torn -from my embrace by an unknown hand.” - -Aldarin looked around over the sea of faces, and smiled as he beheld a -peasant whetting his knife on the very stone on which he stood. - -That smile of incarnate scorn seemed to break the spell of horror that -bound the multitude. - -“To the gibbet, to the gibbet with the fratricide!” again rose the -fierce yell of vengeance, and the men-at-arms came crowding up the -steps, while a score of upraised daggers were about to drink the blood -of the doomed murderer, when Robin the Rough threw himself before the -object of their vengeance. - -“Stain not your steel,” he shouted; “stain not your steel with traitor’s -blood; away to the castle gate with him! Let the dog die a dog’s death!” - -And at the word, the Esquires Halbert and his gallant brother Damian -advanced from the crowd, and seizing Aldarin by the arms, they dragged -him down the steps of stone, while the multitude gave way on either -side, shrinking from the touch of a murderer, as one would shrink from -the garments of the plague-smitten. - -“There is fire in my heart, there is hell in my brain!” arose a -tremulous voice, that was heard far along the castle yard, thrilling the -bystanders to the very soul. “God of mercy, it is, it is not true! The -parchment is a lie--a falsehood written by the very fiend of hell! I did -not--no, no, I did not--wing the _blow_ to _his_ heart! God of heaven -witness me, I raised not the steel for _his_ blood!” - -And as the multitude, bearing Aldarin to his doom, heard that shrieking -voice, they looked back, and beheld the Lord Guiseppo standing over the -prostrate form of his victim, his face pale and colorless, his lip livid -as with the touch of death, while his eyes rolled their ghastly glance -over the faces of the crowd, and his arms hung palsied by his side, with -the fatal parchment quivering in the grasp of his trembling hand. - -“FATHER, FATHER!” his shriek again arose on the air, as he knelt by the -side of his victim; “FATHER, THE MURDERER IS THY SON.” - -The old man raised himself on one hand, grasped the hand of the maddened -boy, as he gazed silently into his face, while his very soul seemed -absorbed into some unreal dream of horror. - -“My son,” he whispered with a mournful smile, “_and the dagger in my -heart_--” - -“Thy son!--ha, ha?--I could laugh till the very heavens echoed my -voice!” and as he spoke, Aldarin, the Scholar, looked backward toward -the castle steps, where the boy knelt beside the dying knight. “Thy -son--ha, ha, ha!--and the dagger in thy heart! Yes, yes, it thy son? Sir -Geoffrey, a parting word: dost thou remember a blow--aye, a blow from -the mailed hand of a warrior, a blow which struck the Scholar to the -floor while the princess of Christendom stood laughing round the scene? -Dost thou remember the insult, the contumely, the scorn. Then look upon -the face of thy boy, whom I stole and reared to be thy murderer, look -upon his youthful face, peruse each feature, and--a smile stole over his -face--_think of the vengeance of Aldarin, the Scholar_.” - -With cries of execration, with yells of vengeance, the men-at-arms -gathered around the fratricide, and as their brandished swords shone in -the light, they bore him towards the castle gate, leaving the slab of -stone before the pillars of the castle door to the solitary -companionship of the father and son. - -It was true--darkly and fearfully true--Guiseppo was the son of Sir -Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword. - -Guiseppo was kneeling upon the stone; his arms were gathered around the -form of his father, and his eyes were fixed in one long gaze upon the -face of the dying man. - -He marked the hue of that venerable countenance as it grew paler every -moment: the lip white and colorless, the eyes wild and wavering in their -glance, the livid circles gathering like the taint of corruption beneath -each eye; he beheld the signs and heralds of coming death; he heard the -quick gasping struggle for breath, and yet he spoke no word, he uttered -no sound of agony. - -“I see her face in thine,” murmured the old man, as he gazed upwards -upon the countenance of his son. “It is no dream,--and--and--thy dagger -is resting in my heart!” - -Guiseppo was silent. - -“Boy, look not upon me with such fearful agony--thou art forgiven!” -gasped the old man. “Raise the hilt of my sword to my lips; I would kiss -the cross ere I die. And now thy hand is firm, seize the haft of the -dagger, and draw the blade from my heart.” - -Guiseppo gazed upon the face of his father with a vacant look, yet still -he uttered no word. - -“Draw the dagger from my heart!” gasped the dying man. - -Guiseppo seized the haft of the dagger, and slowly drew the blade from -the heart of the murdered man. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTEENTH. - -THE FATE OF THE FRATRICIDE. - -THE ELEMENTS ARISE IN BATTLE, DARKENING THE EARTH WITH THEIR STRIFE, AS -THE WIND SHRIEKS THE DEATH-WAIL OF ALDARIN THE SCHOLAR. - - -Onward toward the castle gate, walking to his death, and _yet receding -from the grave at every step_, with the fierce faces of the avengers -frowning around him, with cries of execration and deep muttered oaths of -vengeance deafening his ear, onward toward the castle gate, with an even -step and an erect form, strode the Scholar Aldarin an icy smile on his -lip, and a sombre light in his eye. - -He knew not why they bore him onward--fearless of death, come in what -form it might, he cared not. - -The castle gate was reached. A dark-robed monk rushed from the shadow of -the massive pillars, and while his white hairs waved in the morning -breeze, he raised a cross of iron aloft in the sunbeams-- - -“Sinner--there is mercy above--even for thee! Behold the symbol of that -mercy!” - -“Ha--ha--curses on thee and thy symbol of--mercy! thou shaveling! Were -not my hands stayed by these cowards I would strike ye down in my very -path! I curse ye all!” he shrieked, gazing around the crowd--“I -blaspheme your religion, I mock your * * *! Will ye not strike? Aldarin -laughs at your steel! Are ye afraid of a weak and trembling old man? -Fear ye the Scholar, even in his last hour? Lo! my breast is bare--I -defy the blow!” - -“Thou wilt have striking enough presently,” cried Robin the -Rough--“Throw open the castle gate there. Let the portcullis be raised -and the drawbridge lowered.” - -The gate was passed, and the drawbridge crossed. Aldarin stood upon the -platform of turf surmounting the summit of the hill; beneath him -descended the road into the valley; on either side yawned chasms dark -and deep; while the rocks upon whose massive piles the castle was -founded, threw their fantastic forms from amid clumps of brushwood, and -here and there colossal stones rose brightly into the sunshine from the -depths of the gloomy void. - -Aldarin looked around, and beheld the face of nature clad in the smile -of sunshine; waves of foliage rising in the light; the bosom of the Arno -calm and beautiful as a silver mirror, seen through the intervals of -undulating hills; the Apenines frowning in the far distance, and the -calm blue sky, glowing with the first kiss of morn, arching above. - -Aldarin looked around upon the face of nature, but another spectacle -fixed his attention and excited his wonder. - -Not far from where he stood, four dark steeds were rearing and springing -on the sod, while their grooms, four swarthy Moors, whose distorted -faces scarce resembled the visages of humanity, were forced to exert all -their giant-strength in the effort to hold the wild horses of the -desert. - -Wildly with their hoofs the barbs tore the sod, scattering the loosened -earth in the very face of Aldarin; their eyes flashed like coals of -flame, their sinews seemed to creep under the smooth and glossy skin, -black as midnight; their crests proudly arching, gave their manes, long -and dark, to the breeze; while with quivering nostrils and a shrill -piercing neigh they seemed panting to break loose from all restraint and -dart like lightning down the steep. - -“What would ye with me now?” exclaimed Aldarin, as a strange wonder and -a darker fear gathered around his heart. “Cowards that ye are, ye still -delay your work of murder. I would this merry mysterie were finished--” - -“To the gibbet with the brother-murderer!” arose the thunder shout of -the multitude. “To the gibbet with the wizard and sorcerer!” - -“To the Doom, to the Doom!” shouted the stout yeoman. “_To the Doom_, -but not to the gibbet!” - -Robin the Rough smiled and waved his hand to the Moors who led the barbs -of Arimanes down the steep, while Damian and Halbert followed at their -heels, bearing the Fratricide to his doom.-- - -Meanwhile the multitude thronging from the castle-gate, in one dense -crowd, began to darken over the rocks that hedged in the moat, as the -men-at-arms followed Aldarin down the hilly road, their upraised swords -glittering in the first beams of the morning sun. - -At the foot of the hill there lay a piece of level earth, some hundred -paces square, sloping toward the east into a green meadow, backed by a -wood; on the west it was hedged in by the forest trees, on the north -arose the road leading to the castle, while towards the south the -highway to Florence wound upwards along the brow of a precipitous hill. - -Arrived at this level space--the theatre of the last and most fearful -scene in his life--Aldarin beheld the stout yeoman ranging the -men-at-arms along the foot of the hill, shoulder to shoulder, presenting -one firm compact front, their upraised swords glittering over their -sable plumes, their armor of steel shining in the morning sun. At his -very side, in the centre of the level space, the wild horses of the -desert were rearing and plunging in the hold of their grooms, as their -shrill and piercing neigh broke on the air. - -Aldarin cast his gaze above. - -There crowding along the rocks, that confined the moat, form after form -face after face, thronged the vassals of Albarone, gazing with silence -and awe, upon the strange scenes passing in the valley below. For the -moment every voice was stilled, every cry was silenced; with hushed -breath and fixed brows, the men of Albarone, awaited the last scene of -this tragedy. - -And as Aldarin gazed around, he beheld two soldiers advance, holding -thongs in their hands twisted out of the hide of the wild bull, while -the tawny Moors, at a sign from Robin the Rough, placed their steeds -haunch to haunch, the heads of two of the barbs looking towards the -east, while the others were turned towards the west. - -Robin the Rough advanced. - -He gazed for a moment around the scene, and then approaching the side of -Aldarin, spoke in a calm and even tone, as though the dignity of his -solemn office, the avenger of the dead, imbued and elevated his soul. - -“Thou hast invoked the blow, thou hast defied the steel, blasphemed our -religion, and mocked our God.” - -“Traitor and Fratricide--turn thee and behold the vengeance of that -God.” - -“Behold the manner of thy death--Murderer, look at these barbs of the -desert; see how they paw the earth, how their quivering nostrils snuff -the air--mark those forms of strength, those sinews of iron!” - -“Ere an hundred can be told, lashed to the limbs of these horses, thine -accursed carcass shall be scattered to the winds of heaven, while thy -blood-stained soul, goes trembling to its last account! Thou art a brave -man--we would listen to thee, while thou makest a merry mock of death, -and of such a death as this!” - -Aldarin turned, he looked at the wild horses, placed haunch to haunch; a -deformed Moor holding each steed; he marked their forms of strength, -their sinews of iron; and a slight tremor, scarce perceptible, passed -over his frame. - -“I am ready--” he slowly and distinctly spoke, with a calm smile--“I am -ready even for this death. Cowards and slaves I defy ye!” - -“Thou art a wise man--” again spoke Robin the Rough in his mocking -tone--“and yet mere fools have deceived and duped thee! Yesternight, -within the confines of the Red-Chamber, thou didst wait the coming of a -Brother-wizard who was to journey from the far wilds of the east. Thy -brother-wizard twenty-four hours agone, rode from the very walls of -Florence, secured by the favor of this tyrant-duke--Ha! dost thou -tremble?” - -“This--this--is false!” gasped Aldarin--“Ibrahim journeyed not from the -wilds of the east.” - -“He came from the east attended by a train of twelve Arab knights and a -band of Christian warriors, whom the courtesy of the Crusades, gave to -the service of the friend of Saladin. He arrived at Florence, he beheld -the tyrant duke, and at high noon yesterday rode from the walls of the -city, bound for the Castle of Albarone. He was a venerable man and a -mighty, this Ibrahim--for his long beard--ha,--ha--trailed down to his -very breast! Who was it that made captives of his companie, and confined -his own royal person in bonds, while the men of Sir Geoffrey wended to -the castle clad in the garments of the Arabian retinue? Old man breathe -the question in a murmured voice for it was the work of--THE INVISIBLE.” - -Aldarin veiled his face in his hands, and pressed his lips between his -teeth, until the blood trickled down to his very chin. - -“Off with the murderer’s attire!” shrieked Robin the Rough--“Off with -tunic and hose, belt and boots! Strip him to the very skin! Demon, thy -magical pranks shall not avail thee, now! We will lead thee to thy -death, unarmed with magic casket or wizard phial! Advance comrades and -disrobe the murderer!” - -Aldarin raised his head as the soldiers with the thongs advanced, while -the men-at-arms noted that his face was ghastly white in hue, yet calm -as the Summer Morn then dawning in the eastern sky. - -“Is there not one man in all this crowd, who will bear a message from a -father to his daughter!” he slowly exclaimed--“The Ladye Annabel, she is -my child, and--by the fiend ye dare not refuse a father’s request!” - -There was a pause, while two figures clad and veiled in sweeping robes -of sable, stole silently thro’ the throng of the men-at-arms, and stood -beside Robin the Rough. - -“Will no man hear the last words of a--father to his child?” - -“I--I--will bear the message--” exclaimed one of the sable figures, -speaking from the folds of his robe--“I will bear thy dying words to the -Ladye Annabel!” - -Aldarin trembled. He knew the voice; and strange memories came crowding -around him, as he fancied the tones of his murdered brother living again -in that husky sound. - -“Bear the parchment scroll to the Ladye Annabel. Tell her--tell her--it -came from the hands of _one_ who loved her thro’ life, and gave his lost -thoughts to _her_, in the hour of a fearful death. And look ye man--” he -continued in quick and gasping tones--“ye need not tell her, how her -father died--ye need not speak of his doom--say to her, that Aldarin -died in his bed.” - -“I will--I will--as God lives I will!” - -“Tell her that Aldarin with his last words, blessed her with the -blessing of the God in whom she believes!” - -“It shall be done!” exclaimed the voice, and the hand of the veiled -Figure grasped the parchment scroll--“It shall be done!” - -Robin turned from the scene, and gazed above. “How say ye men of -Albarone--” he shouted pointing to the Barbs of Arimanes--“shall the -Wild Horses, rend the body of the murderer into atoms? Is our sentence -just?” - -There arose from rock, from hill, from valley one shout--“It is the -judgment of Heaven--the judgment of Heaven!” - -Slowly and silently the soldiers disrobed the Scholar, and at last he -stood disclosed in the light, with the folds of his under tunic floating -around his slender form. - -“Lead him to his doom?” shouted Robin the Rough. - -“Ye shall not lead the old man to this fearful death!” arose the shriek -of the Figure who had received the parchment from the hands of the -Scholar--“I forbid this work of doom!” - -The robe fell from the form of the stranger, and Adrian Di Albarone -confronted the stout yeoman, his hands upraised, and his blue eye -gleaming with a wild light, as he shrieked forth the words, “I forbid -this work of doom!” - -“Adrian Di Albarone,” exclaimed the deep-toned voice of Robin the Rough, -as he seemed inspired with an awful feeling of the duty which he owed -the dead; “to-morrow, these gallant men, the vassals clustering round -yon heights, and thy poor servitor, who stands before thee, will joy to -call thee--Lord!--This day is sacred to another master, to another -Lord--this day is sacred to the God of vengeance. This day we own no -earthly rule, we stand apart from all human things; we have sworn not to -eat, nor drink, nor sleep until we have fulfilled the work of doom!” - -“Thou will not scorn my prayer for mercy;--Adrian Di Albarone asks the -old man’s life of thee! He is stained with my father’s blood, but I -would not have him die this fearful death--spare the old man’s life!” - -“I am the avenger of Lord Julian of Albarone! Ask the God above to spare -the fratricide--for I cannot, cannot stay HIS judgment!” - -Adrian turned away, for the stern faces of the men-at-arms told him that -his pleadings were all in vain. And as he glided from the place of -death, the robes were thrust aside from the face of the other figure, -and every eye beheld the visage of Albertine the monk. - -“Old man,” exclaimed the voice of Albertine, from the shrouded folds of -his robe, “hast thou no prayer to offer, no words of penitence to speak -ere thou art led to thy doom?” - -“I am ready for my death;” exclaimed Aldarin, extending his arms-- - -“I scorn your whining prayers, and as for words of penitence--look -ye--is there aught of repentance written on this cheek or brow?” - -“To whom dost thou resign thy soul!” - -“To the AWFUL SOUL OF THE UNIVERSE!” - -Thus exclaimed the fated man, as his slender form rose proudly erect -while his extended hands were raised in the act of solemn appeal. - -“Ye may tear this body into fragments, ye may rend this carcass into -atoms, doom me to the death of fire, or consign this form to the decay -of the charnel-house, _yet ye cannot destroy Aldarin_! His soul will -live and live forever! It may float on the unseen winds, it may glare in -the lightning’s flash, or strike in the thunderbolt; it may come back to -the earth, in the storm, the horror and the doom: or it may wander far, -far in the solitudes of the VAST UNKNOWN, where eternal fires lash the -shores of desolated worlds--still will it live and live forever! A beam -of the AWFUL SOUL can never die!” - -Albertine gazed upon the erect form and flashing eye of the Scholar and -saw that his labour was in vain. With a look which mingled bitter and -contrasted feelings, he turned away from the scene, gathering the folds -of his robe over his face as he disappeared. - -“Lead me to the death,” cried Aldarin in a tone of bitter scorn. “Or are -ye afraid of a weak and withered old man? Ha--ha! ye are brave men!” - -“Lead him to his death!” echoed Robin the Rough. - -Attired in his under tunic, Aldarin was led forward. Damian seized him -by the shoulders and Halbert his feet. They raised him upon the haunches -of the steeds, with his head to the east. - -Robin the Rough advanced, and grasping a thong, twisted out of the wild -bull’s hide, from the hands of one of the men-at-arms, slowly wound the -cord around the body of one of the wild horses, and looping it in a firm -knot, secured the right arm of Aldarin to the back of the restless -steed; while Damian bound the left to the other steed, Halbert, assisted -by the men-at-arms, bound his legs to the backs of the opposite horses, -winding the thongs again and again, around the bodies of the impatient -Arabs, until his blood spouted from the withered flesh of the -fratricide. - -“Wind your thongs yet tighter friends of mine!” the sneer broke -gaspingly from the lips of the doomed. “I defy your malice and laugh at -your doom!” - -The interest now was most absorbing and intense. - -Along the whole extent of blackened rocks, frowning above the level -space, gathered the multitude gazing on the scene with gasping breath -and woven brows; while the men-at-arms, circling along the base of the -hill, stood silent and motionless, their upraised swords still -glittering in the first beams of the morning sun. - -And there, in the centre of the space of highway earth, placed haunch to -haunch, stood the barbs of Arimanes, their eyes flashing as though a -demon-soul lived and moved within each sinewy form; there were gathered -the deformed Moors, each sable groom holding an ebon steed by the -nostrils, for the bridles were now cast aside; there, standing at the -side of each wild horse, the avengers of the dead, with the right leg -advanced and dagger drawn, awaited the word of vengeance; and there, -with his face turned upward to heaven, helpless and motionless, intense -pain shooting through every vein, and quivering along every sinew, -filling his brain with fire, his heart with ice, Aldarin the fratricide -smiled in scorn, as the moment of his doom came hurrying on. - -“Avengers of your Lord,” shouted Robin the Rough, “raise your daggers, -and as the word falls from my lips, bury them to the hilt in the flank -of each steed!” - -“A word--a single word,” whispered Aldarin, in a subdued voice. “Draw -near--I would say my last farewell--” - -“What would’st thou have?” exclaimed one of the men-at-arms, advancing. - -“When I am dying, ere the heart is cold, or the brow chill, approach and -gaze upon my countenance, and as you gaze, take to your very soul.” - -“Speak--man of blood--thy moments are well nigh spent.” - -“Take to your very soul,” whispered the fratricide, as he slowly, and -with difficulty, brought his head round to his right shoulder--“THE -CURSE OF ALDARIN!” - -“Avengers of your Lord,” exclaimed the stout yeoman--“strike deep, every -man into the flanks of his steed!” - -“_The curse_,” shrieked a hollow voice, “_The Curse of Aldarin!_” - -“Strike,--I say--strike!” - -The daggers sunk into the flanks of the horses, buried to the hilts; the -Moors leaped back; the maddened steeds sprang forward, with one wild -bound, straining every sinew in the effort to free themselves from their -accursed burden. - -It was in vain. - -They sank back, with a maddening howl, each steed upon his haunches, the -accursed fratricide uttered a yell of intense and overwhelming agony--it -died on his lips! - -With eyes of fire with streaming manes, their nostrils extended, and all -their vigour gathered for the effort, the steeds again leaped forward, -springing madly from each other, and darting into the air, with one -terrible impulse-- - -The scene swam for an instant before the vision of the spectators. - -They looked again. A limbless trunk lay in the dust of the highway, -spouting streams of blood--along the green meadow careered two black -steeds--through the dense forest thundered the others. - -One of the men-at-arms, approaching the carcass, gazed for a moment at -the dread face. His eye glanced over expressions of the features, -convulsed by the throes of the parting soul; the eye yet fired with -hate, the lip curved with scorn; the sunken jaw oozing blood from every -pore; the quivering flesh and changing hues of the visage. All the -ghastliness and fear of this countenance, met his vision at a glance; he -uttered a howl of horror, and fell stiffened upon the earth, as the last -spark of life fled from the remains of the fratricide. When the soldier -awoke, his eye was vacant, and his reason gone. He was a maniac! He had -received the last words of the Doomed, and the Curse was on him forever. - -Another moment passed, and the crowd came rushing from the rocky steeps, -filling the air with fierce shouts, and wild yells of execration, while -the men-at-arms, circled round the bleeding trunk, gazing upon the wild -and unearthly countenance of the Scholar, in wonder and in awe, each man -whispering to his comrade, a word of fear, as he marked the expression -of blasphemous and fiend-like scorn, stamped upon the visage of the -FRATRICIDE. - -And while they circled round, struck dumb with a nameless awe, two -Figures, arrayed in robes of sable, rushed through the throng and -confronted Robin the Rough, as he stood stern, silent and awe-stricken, -they gazed upon the Dead. - -“It is--” exclaimed the solemn voice of Adrian Di Albarone--“It is the -judgment of Heaven!” - -From rock, from hill, from valley, from forest and from castle-wall, -arose the stern echo,-- - -“The Judgment of Heaven--the Judgment of Heaven!” - -On, on, like lightning, darted the ebon steeds, bearing the torn and -shattered limbs, reeking with the life blood, yet warm and smoking. On, -on as tho’ the spirit of the lost, had entered their maddened forms. On, -on, they flew! - -Onward! and onward! sped the wild horses, tracking their course with -blood, and rushing past the cottages of the affrighted peasantry, like -beings of the unreal world, fired with the soul of Arimanes, cursed with -the Spirit of the _Evil One_! Onward and Onward! - -One brave barb, came plunging from the depths of a wood, and a precipice -mighty and steep, was before him, but he heeded it not. Down an hundred -fathoms into the boiling water he fell. - -Another black steed sank into the calm waters of a placid river; another -reached the sea, and plunging in its depths, swam far, far, into the -wide expanse of the waters and was heard of no more. - -The last--swept like the wind, by hamlet and tower and town. The -live-long day he urged on his career. The blood streaming from his -nostrils, his limbs weakened, and his sinews unstrung, he entered the -confines of a long valley, where a calm lake, gave its bosom to the -evening sun. - -His pace was unsteady and he staggered to and fro, yet still the bloody -fragment hung at his back. At last he fell and died, and the scene of -his death was before a pleasant cottage on the green hill side. Much -wondered the solitary Student of the cot, as he surveyed the carcass of -the gallant steed. Little did he wot from whence he sped or the cause of -his flight. - -Meanwhile gathering around the shapeless trunk, the men of Albarone -built a pile of the branches of oaks, that had lain mouldering for years -in the forest, and soon a broad bright flame arose, and it burned till -the setting of the sun, when a storm gathered in the west, and heralded -by thunder, and armed with lightning, it swept over the earth, and the -ashes of the _fratricide_, mingling with the whirlwind, never more -polluted the green bosom of the earth. - -Thus runs the legend of the Doom of the Poisoner, thus runs the legend -of the death that befel. - - -ALDARIN THE FRATRICIDE. - - - - -BOOK THE FOURTH. - -THE QUEEN OF FLORENCE. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIRST. - -A SILVERY MOON AND A CLOUDLESS SKY. - -THE AGED DAME OF THE COT ON THE HILLSIDE LEARNS THE MYSTERY OF AN -UNFASTENED DOUBLET. - - -“Night among the mountains--oh, glorious and beautiful!” arose the voice -of the Wanderer, as with one bold grasp he attained the topmost rock of -the hoary steep, rising far above forest and stream--“Night among the -mountains--the calm moonbeams sleeping on the lake--the boundless azure -arching above--the rolling sweep of forest and the rugged outline of -precipice and steep--the far-off convent, its towers looming through the -distance, like a cloud of evil omen--Night among the mountains, glorious -and grand and beautiful! - -“Thank God for the breeze, the cool and freshening breeze! It sweeps -over my forehead, burning as with the ravages of hidden flame, it bears -the fever from my cheek, and the madness from my brain. And yet I must -on, and on--afar I behold the peaceful cot, appearing amid the -luxuriance of the hill-side vines--my steed lays bleeding and dead in -the vale below, still must I on, and on! - -“God of Heaven, will that face never depart from my soul, the brow -darkened by superhuman hate, the eyes all aflame with the Curse of the -Fratricide, the white lips, and the sunken jaws; with the blood oozing -from every pore! Even now I behold the face! And to her ear--help me -Saints of Light--to _her_ ear must I bear the manner of his doom! - -“The moon shines in the heavens, calm and beautiful--when the mild -radiance of her beams pales before the glory of the uprising sun--then, -then, will the angels of fate, write in the books of the Unknown, the -Doom of Adrian, the last of the race of Albarone!” - -And as the words broke murmuring from his lips, he flung his form from -the summit of the steep, and grasping with eager hands the point of each -projecting rock, at last descended to the bed of the valley, and sped -onward on his errand of woe, while higher in the heavens up rose the -moon. - -High in the heavens arose the full orbed moon, and calm and lovely was -the sight, as enthroned in the very zenith of the boundless azure, this -thing of beauty and of beams, shed a shower of silver radiance down on -the silent bosom of the quiet vale, mirroring her rounded glory in the -deep waters of the mountain lake, giving a ghastly lustre to the white -precipice, from whose foundations arose the walls of the lonely convent, -mossy with age and darkened by time. - -In this wide world of ours--so runs the wild rhapsody of the Chronicler -of the ancient MSS.--in this wide world of ours, there are, I ween, many -things sublime and beautiful and grand, yet what sight may compare with -a cloudless heaven, a silvery moon and a lovely extent of woody hills -and grassy vales? Never minstrel struck harp--never romancer spoke the -fancies of his brain, that did not hymn thy praise, O! beauteous thing -of brilliance and of beams! For ages and for ages thou hast held thy way -of glory through the arching heavens--thou hast looked down upon -warriors marching in all their pomp, and thou hast beheld their withered -forms strewn over the battle plain;--lovers have poured forth their love -beneath thy light, and again thou hast looked down upon their quiet -graves;--nations have risen and fallen;--monuments that gave promise of -eternal duration, have crumbled in the dust;--cities have towered in -deserts, and deserts have won the place of gorgeous cities, yet still -kind nurturer of holy thoughts, inspirer of heavenly fancies, yet still -thou passest on in thy course of light, and thus, with brilliance -unpaling and unpaled, glorious as when God first bade thee roll through -the azure expanse, thou shalt urge thy way until the final trump of -doom. - -Arising in the calm moonbeams, the roof of the lonely cottage gave its -wreathing vines, all gay with flowers, to the motion of the night air, -while the gleam of a taper, shooting from a crevice of the closed -lattice, varied the shadows which darkened over one side of the -tenement, by a single thread of light. - -Meanwhile the beams of the taper gave light to the principal chamber of -the cottage, where the stately mother of Leone the student, sate wrapt -in deep meditation. - -“Strange!”--thus she murmured--“Strange! Scarce seven days since we -first concealed ourselves in this lonely vale, and Adrian--ha! I may be -overheard--Leone has won the friendship of this noble youth of Florence. -Not that he acquires honor thereby--by my troth, no!--the youth is a -good youth, and a fair, but the friendship of Emperors cannot add glory -to the heir of Albarone--fool that I am!--ever repeating the name of our -race! Strange it is, very strange, that the gentle Florian should take -up his abode in our cot! He is ever with Leone!--They walk, they eat, -they drink together, and together they pursue their studies! The fair -stranger shall in time become the leader of armies--but my son--the last -of an honored race, shall become a--_monk_. The thought is maddening!” - -The dame arose and hurriedly paced the room. As she strode to and fro -she perceived the door of Leone’s apartment slightly ajar, and impelled -by mere restlessness, she took a mother’s privilege, and softly entered -the room. - -No sooner had she opened the door, than a sight met her gaze, that -caused her to start back to the very threshold with astonishment. - -Seated beside the table, on which a taper cast its dim light, over the -opened volume, the chairs of the students were drawn close together, -their backs were turned to the dame, the arm of Leone was around the -slender waist of the gentle Florian, and with their heads laid one -against the other, the rich golden locks of Leone mingled with a shower -of flaxen tresses that fell over the shoulders and down the back of the -fair stranger. - -Treading on tip-toe and much wondering at the unusual length of -Florian’s hair, the dame approached. - -“Thou art weary, my love”--the whisper broke from Florian’s lips--“thy -dress is soiled with dust and torn by travel--thy face is wan and -haggard, and--the Virgin save me--thine eyes are bloodshot! Thou hast -been absent two long and weary days. Hast journeyed far to-day, Adrian?” - -“A score of miles, since the sunset hour.” - -“And thou didst see the old castle yet again?” - -Adrian replied in a whisper, and then as they conversed in low murmurs, -the dame observed the form of her son agitated by a slight trembling -motion, while ever and anon he turned his head aside veiling his face in -his hands. - -Nearer drew the dame, and looking over the heads of the students, a -tremor of surprise ran over her frame, her hands were involuntarily -raised, her thin lips parted, her gray eyes expanded, and her eyebrows -arose to the very roots of her hair. Silent she stood and motionless as -stone. - -The evening being somewhat warm, the broach that fastened Florian’s -doublet at the neck, was unloosed, and the opening garment gave to view -a neck of the most surpassing whiteness, spreading into shoulders of -flowing outline, and budding into a bosom of virgin tracery of form, all -glowing with the warm blood of youth, and heaving with the pulsations of -passion. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SECOND. - -THE CLOUD GATHERS AND THE SKY DARKENS. - - -The dame essayed to speak. Her voice died away in an unmeaning rattle of -the throat. One hand she extended, and seizing Leone by the shoulder, -with the other she tore the maiden from his embrace-- - -“Apostate!” she began in tones that trembled with rage, “is it thus thou -honorest the race whose name thou bearest. Away!--I will never look upon -thee more! Away!--and with thee take thy----, I will not speak the title -of shame;--Away!” - -As she spoke she raised her hand to strike the shrinking maiden, who, -with head drooped on her bosom, and quick blushes coursing over her -face, strove hurriedly to fasten the broach of her doublet. - -“Strike her not, mother!” cried Leone, throwing himself before the -damsel, “Assail her not with words of shame!” - -He took the hand of the blushing maiden and continued--“Fear not, love, -there is none to harm thee. Mother, behold my bride!” - -“Annabel!--Thy bride? Wherefore this concealment? Why this unmaidenly -disguise? How is’t, my son--how is’t?” - -“As for the disguise it was assumed to aid her escape, and then,”--he -whispered into his mother’s ear--“and then I thought thou wouldst not -affect the niece of the--the--s’life, mother, I cannot speak the word of -any one connected with Annabel!” - -“My son, my son! what hast thou done? Answer me--befits such doings with -thy profession? Art thou not intended for a minister of Heaven?” - -While the dame spoke, the figure of a monk darkened the opened doorway, -advancing to Leone he threw back his cowl, and discovered the dark brow, -the wan face, the flashing eyes of Albertine, the monk. - -“Lord Adrian,” whispered the Monk, “at the hour of sunset, when the dark -storm arose, howling its requiem over the remains of the Fratricide, -thou didst hasten from the castle of Albarone, bound for this lonely -valley. Thou hadst not gone an hour’s journey from the castle walls, -when I tracked thy footsteps, bearing news of fearful import. Thy haunt -hath been betrayed to the tyrant, by a traitor from the lonely valley. -Even now, the Duke spurs his steed toward the valley of the mountain -lake, attended by a band of minions; even now the voices of his bravoes -startle the air, shrieking for thy blood!” - -“And the INVISIBLE?” whispered Adrian--“where is their dagger of -vengeance, while the tyrant rides abroad on his errands of wrong?” - -“Listen, Lord Adrian! This very night, while the Duke is absent from the -walls of Florence, will Lord and Monk, Prince and Peasant, joined in the -solemn oath of the holy steel, arise in the might of men who have sworn -at the very Altar of God to be free, and ere the morrow’s sun, Florence -the Fair and Beautiful, will own another Sovereign! The Invisible work -in secret, as doth the earthquake--man alone beholds the bursting of the -storm!” - -“Hark! I hear the sound of horses’ hoofs, mingled with the clatter of -arms!” - -“God of Heaven! The Duke approaches!” shouted the Monk--“I must be -gone--all thought of escape for thee and thy bride is vain! Adrian, -Adrian, bear a firm heart through the perils of this night, and in the -morrow’s dawn will blaze the star of thy Mighty Fortune! Hath the Duke -any issue, or is he the last of his line?” - -“He is the last of his race,” answered Adrian, “why dost thou ask?” - -“Thou wilt learn anon!” exclaimed the Monk. - -He turned and sought the door, but as if struck by a sudden thought, he -again approached Adrian, and whispered in tones that seemed to come from -his very soul--“Fare-thee-well, Adrian, fare-thee-well! I have loved -thee much, very much. There was a time when my heart was as young as -thine, my soul as pure. But now--Ha! _now_ I would have my revenge, -although the chasm of hell yawned beneath me--nay, although between me -and the object of my hate yawned the gulf of perdition, I would leap the -abyss and drag him down, down to the eternal flames that now hunger for -his accursed soul--Fare-thee-well, Adrian--I’ll never see thee more!” - -The Monk was gone. The fearful look that fired his countenance, and the -awful tones in which he spoke, haunted Adrian Di Albarone until his -dying hour. - -Scarcely had Albertine disappeared, when there was the sound of -trampling feet in the outer apartment, and presently the figure of his -Grace of Florence occupied the doorway, while the heads of his followers -were seen looking over his shoulders. - -He looked around the apartment with a curious eye, as if he sought the -wanderers. At last his glance rested upon the form of the disguised -Annabel, and advancing toward the damsel, he flung himself at her feet, -exclaiming with all the grace of attitude and expression at his command. - -“Fair Ladye, it is with joy beyond the power of words to tell, that I -hail thee by the title of the--Fair Ladye Annabel, Countess Di -Albarone!” - -“How sayst thou?” exclaimed Annabel, forgetting her boyish disguise in -her eagerness, “How sayst thou? Ladye of Albarone?” - -“Aye, fair Ladye. Thou art _now_ the Countess Di Albarone, soon shalt -thou be my own loved Annabel, Duchess of Florence.” - -The Duke leaned earnestly forward, trying to look as much like a lover -as might be--his face wore an expression of deep solemnity, his -protruding eyes made an effort to sparkle, and his attempt to soften his -voice, gave one the idea of a magpie trying to sing. - -Annabel cast an agonized look at the Duke-- - -“Sayst thou nought of my father?” she exclaimed. “Is he sick?--is he -ill?--Tell me that I may hurry to him!--For heaven’s sake tell me!--my -father is--” - -“DEAD!” cried the Duke. - -“Dead!” echoed the dame, starting with surprise. - -Annabel heard no more. - -“Coward and tyrant,” shouted Lord Adrian, as he caught the sinking -maiden in his arms, “away with thee from this humble tenement. Defile -not my bride with the pollution of thy touch--By the honor of my race! I -would give the brightest jewel in the coronet of Albarone, for one good -blow at the carcass of this craven hound!” - -“Ho! art thou here my gay springald?--_Thy bride_, indeed?--Guards -advance, seize the miscreant!--I will teach him to raise his unholy hand -against his liege Lord!--away with him to the lowest dungeon of yon -convent. On the morrow he shall be carried to Florence, there to answer -for his treason!” - -Unarmed and weaponless Adrian beheld himself at the mercy of the tyrant. -The soldiers advanced,--in vain was his defence--in an instant he found -himself in the hands of his foes, and as the minions bound his hands -behind his back, he heard the beetle-browed Balvardo--for he was among -the throng--whisper in the ear of the Duke-- - -“At what hour my Lord?” - -“‘Slife canst not do it without my bidding?--When all in the convent is -still--at midnight let it be done!--See to’t!” - -“Aye, aye, my Lord, at midnight it shall be done!” - -“And the Bridal,” cried the Duke, turning to the Ladye Annabel, as she -rested in the arms of the Countess. “The hour after midnight shall -witness the joyous scene--the marriage of the Duke and his betrothed!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRD. - -THE DEATH BOWL. - - -THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE RAVISHER STARTLE THE SILENCE OF THE MAIDEN’S CELL, -WHILE ADRIAN PREPARES FOR HIS DOOM IN THE VAULTS BELOW. - -It was in a lone chamber, where the dark walls, unrelieved by tapestry -or wainscotting, were rendered yet more sad and gloomy by the fitful -flashes of a taper, placed upon a small table of blackened oak. - -The sable hangings of the couch standing in one corner, the floor of -stone, wearing the same dead and leaden hue, the massive furniture of -the room, and the grotesque carvings ornamenting the heavy pillars, all -were in unison with the grave-like silence of the air, which seemed -heavy with doom and burdened with death. - -In the centre of the apartment, her white robes loosely flowing around -her peerless form, her fair and rounded arms upraised, her head slightly -inclined to one side, her cheek, now warm with hope, now pale with fear, -stood the Ladye Annabel. Her hair of sunshine luxuriance was swept back -over her neck and shoulders, while her bosom rose in the light, and her -breath came thick and fast, the convulsive gasps, breaking the -death-like silence of the apartment, with an echo of strange emphasis. - -Sleep had fled from her eyelids. She arose and watched, she knew not -why, but still she watched and trembled as she listened to the slightest -sound. - -“I listen, I tremble, and my heart is chilled with a nameless fear,” -murmured the Ladye Annabel, pacing the dark floor of the apartment with -indecisive and hurried steps. “The hour wears slowly on, the fatal hour -after midnight, when this unrelenting Duke will claim my hand, this hand -already given to another, by the minister of Heaven! Holy Mary! behold -the bridal--a lonely cell, hidden in the depths of this fearful -monastery, the altar of black, the dark-robed monk, the tyrant-Duke and -the victim; the time, the hour after the bell has tolled midnight, no -hope, no aid, afar from human consolation, or the voice of human -friend--such will be the second bridal of Annabel, wife of Adrian Di -Albarone!” - -She paused with an involuntary thrill of fear, as the vivid details of -the picture rose before her mental vision, and then came another -thought of horror--_the bride must be widowed ere she weds a second -time_. - -While dark and fearful imaginings haunted her soul, and well nigh crazed -her brain, the fair and gentle Ladye Annabel felt a strange and -deadening sleep stealing over her frame, and with a half-muttered prayer -to the Virgin, she sank slumbering on the couch, the hangings of sable -closing over her form, and concealing her from the sight. - -All is silent within the cell. Low, suppressed sounds break from distant -parts of the monastery, half-heard shrieks, and deep-muttered groans. -For a dreary half hour, the cell is left to silence and solitude; when a -distant footstep is heard, then a strange echo runs along the corridors -of the Convent, and the small door of the lonely room, grating on its -hinges slowly opens, and a Figure, buried in the folds of a sweeping -robe of black, and bearing a small lamp of iron in an extended hand, -stalks cautiously along the floor of stone. - -The Figure paused with a trembling and indecisive movement in the centre -of the floor, and then a face flushed by wine, and ruddy with -excitement, was thrust from the folds of the robe of black. - -“All silent and still,” exclaimed a voice, indistinct with wine. “An -half hour of midnight--the sleeping potion has taken effect! It has, by -St. Antonia!” - -He approached the bedside, and with the trembling hand of a coward, -flung back the sable hangings of the couch. The light of his lamp, fell -vividly upon the form of the sleeping maiden, as she reclined on the -sable furs covering the couch, while her flowing robes, white as the -undriven snow, gave a strange contrast to the ebony darkness of the bed. - -“I’ faith she is beautiful--_eh, Aldarin?_ Faugh! _I forgot--the man is -dead!_ That bloom upon her cheek--’tis like the opening rose. How soft -that heave of the bosom as it rises from the folds of the white -robe--_torn to pieces by wild horses_--that arm, with the dress falling -softly around its outlines, the small hand, the tapering fingers--_a -most accursed fate_--and the attitude, the cheek reclining on the arm, -the form laid so carelessly along the couch, the feet, small, -delicate--_torn into a thousand fragments, an arm here, a leg there, -and_--By the Saints I must e’en crave a kiss of this sleeping beauty--” - -And stooping slowly over the bed, with the lamp extended in one hand, -the Duke glanced nervously around the room, and then with a rude grasp -of the flaxen tresses, he wound the other around the maiden’s neck, his -unholy hands touched her virgin bosom, with its globes of beauty heaving -and throbbing as his fingers pressed the snow-white skin, while his -sensual lips, steaming with wine, were pressed upon her unstained cheek, -his grasp growing closer, and his eyes gloating over the Ladye’s face -and form, as that kiss of pollution rested on her cheek. - -“Ha--ha!--the sleeping potion,--she is mine--she is mine. The braggart -Adrian hugs his death in the vaults below--I gather his bride to my arm -in the cell above. Ha--ha--the sleeping potion!” - -No thought of mercy, no whispering of pity, no silent pleading of right, -for a moment restrained the purpose of the ravisher. - -He gathered her form closer to that breast which had never been the home -of one ennobling thought, he wound his hand around her neck; again was -her bosom and cheek polluted by the plague-spot of his touch. - -“She is mine!” chuckled the ravisher. “Mine, and none other than mine!” - -The Ladye Annabel murmured in that fatal sleep, she tossed her rounded -arms wildly to and fro; the potion was in her veins, and around her -heart, and the nightmare on her soul. - -Another start, and she awoke. - -She slowly unclosed her large blue eyes, she fixed their glance upon the -flushed countenance of the ravisher, with a look that went to his very -soul, and caused the arm that encircled her form to tremble like a leaf -tossed to and fro by the wind. - -“Murderer!” - -The solitary word broke from her lips, and her look of wild gaze was -again fixed upon his face. He trembled before her glance--he quailed -like a whipped hound--he unloosed his hold. - -“I am not,” he muttered, springing backward from the couch. “It was not -me. He is not dead; he lives--” - -“Murderer!” she again murmured, in that low, deep-toned voice, while her -face of calm and dreamy beauty was stamped with a weird expression that -awed the ravisher to the very soul. - -“Even now thy evil angel writes thee liar, in the book of thy misdeeds. -Even now thy victim writhes in the throes of death within the vaults -below; ay, ay, beneath thy very feet he dies. Why stand ye over the -corse? Doth not the pale face and the cold brow fright ye? On whom is -fixed the glare of those stony eyes--on whom? On thee, murderer, on -thee; on thee they glare with the accusing glance of death!” - -“She is crazed! Save me, all good saints--she is crazed! She sweeps -toward me with a measured stride! Great God! she walks not--she glides -slowly on; she moves like a spirit--a thing of air!” - -He shrunk back, cringing before the glance of those eyes from which all -reason had fled; he shrunk back step by step as she advanced, awed by -the upraised arms, with the robes of white waving slowly to and fro; -awed by the supernatural look visible in every line of the face of the -Ladye Annabel, and in a moment found himself leaning for support against -a dark stone pillar of the cell. - -“Murderer!” she murmured, looking him full in the face. “I hear thy -victim groan, I hear him writhe. Look ye, good angels, he denies it, and -look, look how the red blood drops from his trembling hands!” - -With that look which filled him with involuntary horror, she glided -backward step by step, she reached the small door of the cell, and flung -it open with her outspread hands. - -“He denies it, he denies it; and the blood--ha, ha, ha!--hark how it -patters on the floor!” - -With that low, muttered laugh which chilled his very blood, for it was -the laugh of madness, the Ladye Annabel again awed the Duke of -Florence--the ravisher in heart--with her gaze, and then springing -through the cell door, her form, with its waving robes of snow, was lost -to his sight. - -He saw her form no more, but a low muttered laugh came whispering along -the galleries of the monastery, and half-formed words broke on his ear. - -“Where is now the ravisher, flushed with wine and maddened with lust; -where is now the proud Duke, haughtily attired in robes of price, with -dishonor on his heart, and the foul purpose on his soul?” - -Crouching against the wall, trembling in every limb, his eyes vacant -with terror, his whiskered jaw half dropped upon his heart, his hand -still nervously grasping the iron lamp, he listens to the low, muttered -laugh creeping to his ear from the far distant corridors; he listens and -shakes with fear, but says no word. - -Along the dark galleries she flees, filling the old arches with echoes -of that low muttered laugh; through the midnight passages she winds, -stairways she ascends, and her delicate feet descend the dampened steps -of stone; alone, in darkness, and in nameless fear, she glides on her -flight of terror. - -The cool air sweeps over her fevered brow, the dampness of the -atmosphere chills her bosom, and by slow degrees the flight of madness, -caused by the drugged potion, passed from her soul, and the Ladye -Annabel is restored to reason and to thought. - -Oh! fearful reason, oh! terrible thought, to which madness were joy, -insanity, in its wildest flight, happiness the most intense. - -“The bride must be widowed, ere she weds a second time!” - -She rushed on, never heeding the darkness; she rushed on, never heeding -the cold. She might save him yet; oh! even yet she might save him. - -And through the dark passages of that deserted part of the monastery she -wound, until her hands, extended on either side, touched the opposite -walls, wet with moisture, and crawling with vermin; when the echo of the -arches, succeeded by a dead, deafening murmur, told Annabel that she -strode along a confined corridor, far under ground, growing narrow and -yet narrower at every step. - -A moment passed, and her extended hands were met by waving folds of -tapestry, that swept across her path, and terminated the narrow -corridor. Thrusting her hands eagerly among the hangings, she turned -them suddenly aside, and started back with surprise, as a broad belt of -light was thrown along the gloomy passage. With hushed breath and a -throbbing heart, she gazed beyond the hangings of dark leather, and -while her blue eyes dilated with wonder and fear, she beheld a strange -and startling scene. - -Two figures were kneeling upon the floor of an apartment, narrow and -confined, as regards dimensions, and square in shape, hung with gorgeous -folds of embroidered tapestry, dark-green in hue, with matting of -strange pattern and curious device, brought from the far Eastern lands, -strewn over the pavement of the room. The only object that broke the -uniformity of the place, was a dark robe flung over some massive body in -an obscure corner. - - * * * * * - -The light, clear and brilliant in its flame, placed on the matting -between the kneeling men, threw its vivid beams on each face and form, -over every line of their features, over every point of their apparel. - -The Ladye Annabel stifled an expression of surprise which rose to her -lips at the vision of this luxuriously furnished cell, in the midst of -gloom and damp, and then with a writhing heart took in the details of -this strange picture. - -One of the kneeling figures was a soldier, the other was a monk. - -The soldier, with his muscular hand laid on his bent knee, grasped a -massive sword; his beetle brow surmounted by stiff and matted hair, -giving a darker expression to his small and ferret-like eyes; while his -companion, robed in the dark attire of a monk, with a pale, solemn face, -lighted by the glare of an eye that seemed to dilate and burn, looked -upon the man-at-arms with a glance meant to read more than the rugged -visage--meant to read his very soul. - -The Ladye Annabel listened to their low and muttered conversation with -her very heart mounting to her throat. - -“Thou wilt do it--eh, Albertine? Thou knowest my orders, sir monk?” - -“The steel or the bowl?” - -“The same, by the fiend! The hour--when the clock of the tower strikes -twelve. He said so--thou knowest whom I mean. Why that dark and bitter -smile? Blood o’ th’ Turk, monk, that smile shows thy white teeth--I like -it not!” - -“Nay, good Balvardo, be not angered with me. I was but painting a quiet -picture to my fancy. Our victim, his eyes rolling in the death-struggle, -his blue lips whitened with foam, his arms outstretched with the last -convulsive spasm, and then--ha, ha!--the music of the death rattle! ’Tis -excellent, i’faith, the picture--ha, ha, ha!” - -“Look ye, monk or devil, whate’er ye be, I’m your man, when a good deed -of cut-and-thrust is to be done, and the wretch is despatched with a -blow. But as for this merry-making over the dead, I like it not. Blood -o’ Mahound, not a whit of it! I can wet my sword in a man’s blood as -nicely as your next man, but it likes me not to wet my tusks with the -vile puddle, and grin while the red drops fall from my lips. No more o’ -your death grins, monk, or--’s death!--we quarrel!” - -“Ho--ho--ho! so the humor suits ye not, _honest_ Balvardo. Dost know the -depth of the sea, or the number of the millions slain by old Death? Then -know the hate I bear _my_ victim; then count the lives I would crush in -my revenge, had he as many as the millions trampled under the feet of -Death! Is’t not cause for merriment, _good_ Balvardo?” - -“Look ye, sir monk, thou hast ever been known as the prime tool of his -grace,--’s life! I should mention no names,--and therefore do I resign -my part in this night’s work to thy hands. When ’tis done, thou -knowest--” - -“Where shall I place the body?” - -“Here!” cried the hoarse voice of the soldier, and the Ladye Annabel saw -him rise; she beheld him striding across the matted floor, toward an -obscure corner of the apartment; she beheld him as he placed his rough -hand upon the dark robe flung over the rising object. - -“Here let him rest,” he cried, raising the robe, “and rest forever!” - -The Ladye Annabel beheld a sight that gathered the big drops of sweat -thick as the death dew on her forehead. Her heart was swelled to -bursting, and she turned away from the sight for a single moment, with -the impulse of overpowering horror. - -When she looked again, the black cloth was again resting on that object -of terror, while Balvardo was advancing toward the monk with his usual -heavy and measured stride. - -“Hast aught to hold the wine, _good_ Balvardo?” - -“In yonder closet thou wilt find the wine. Here is--curse this cloak, -how its folds tangle about my body!--here is the goblet.” - -The Ladye Annabel felt the death-like feeling of ice creeping around her -heart; and as she looked, she thought she beheld the monk Albertine grow -pale with horror, while his compressed lip seemed to tell a story of -fearful yet hushed emotion. - -_The goblet held forth in the hand of the Sworder, was the goblet of -gold with which the poisoner of the Red Chamber had administered death -to the lips of Julian, Lord of Albarone._ - -“Man!” exclaimed Albertine, with a blazing eye and livid lip, “how came -this goblet--this death-bowl--in thy possession?” - -“‘Slife! Dost not know the story? One of the witnesses who gave -testimony against that--that--I mean _he_ who sleeps in yonder -chamber--received this goblet as a mark of the accuser’s gratitude. I -was that witness. Blood o’ th’ Turk, there goes the clock--one, two, -three. Sir monk, to thy duty.” - -“Father of mercy, he is false at last!” - -And as the words broke from the Ladye Annabel’s lips, she beheld the -monk take the goblet in his hands; she beheld him empty a paper filled -with white powder into its depths. - -She could look no more; a cold, icy feeling seemed to freeze the very -blood around her heart; her limbs refused their support; she sank slowly -down upon the damp floor, and yet the words spoken in the adjoining room -came to her ear like the echo of far-off shouts. - -“Four, five, six. Monk, wilt delay all night? To thy victim!” - -The monk strode across the cell, holding the goblet under his robe; he -approached a spot where the tapestried hangings, slightly swept aside, -disclosed the entrance into another room. - -“Adrian,” whispered the monk, “dost sleep?” - -“Sleep!” echoed a hollow voice from the inner cell. “Sleep, when there -is fever in my brain, and fire in my heart! Dost jest, good Albertine?” - -“Nay nay, Adrian, I jest not. I have a sleeping potion which will give -thee rest.” - -“The rest of the grave, in the arms of the skeleton-god,” muttered -Balvardo, with a low chuckle. - -“Would that thy potion could minister sleep eternal,” spoke the hollow -voice, and a hasty footstep was heard. “And yet I would not die yet--no, -no! She still lives. I would not die, save in her arms, and by her -side!” - -And as the voice sounded strange and hollow through the cell, the -tapestry rustled, and Adrian Di Albarone stood before the monk. - -Adrian Di Albarone it was, but the manly form was bent with chains, the -black velvet attire of the student was soiled and torn; while the faded -countenance, the sunken cheek, the lips compressed, the hollow -eye-sockets, and the quick and fiery eye, all told a tale of the agony -of years endured within the compass of a single hour. - -He stood before the monk, and his chains clanked as he stood, while his -wild eye drank in each line of Albertine’s visage. - -“You spoke of a soothing potion, good Albertine.” - -“_Seven, eight, nine,” muttered Balvardo._ - -The monk spoke not a word; he strode to the closet--he seized the flask -of wine--he filled the goblet to the brim. - -“Drink, Adrian,” he cried, “drink, and be refreshed!” - -Adrian raised the goblet to his mouth with his chained right hand--he -wet his lips with the ruddy wine; and then, as if seized by some fearful -spell, he stood motionless as death, while his right arm straightened -slowly out from his body, with the hand convulsively clutching the bowl -of death. - -“It is, it is!” he shrieked. “It is the goblet of the Red Chamber! God -of Heaven, what means this mystery? Speak, Albertine. Wouldst thou -betray me?” - -“_Ten!” meanwhile continued Balvardo, in the background_. - -“Adrian!” cried the monk, starting back with a solemn gesture, “I stand -upon the verge of the cliff of Time; beneath me roll the surges of that -shoreless ocean which men name ETERNITY! Ere the morrow’s dawn, I leap -from the cliff; the surges of that awful sea will bear me on--on to the -vast Unknown! Thinkest thou I would betray thee? Drink, and be -refreshed.” - -_“Eleven, twelve! the time is up!” soliloquized the sworder._ - -“I drink,” cried Adrian, with a wild gesture, “I drink; for thy words -are truth, and thine eye bears no falsehood in its glance! I drink the -goblet of the Red Chamber to the dregs!” - -A shriek that might never be forgotten rang through the corridor and -chamber, and a slight form, arrayed in robes of white came rushing from -the folds of the tapestry. - -Adrian beheld the dreamy face of the Ladye Annabel, her cheek pale as -the robes she wore, while, with glaring eye and voice of horror, she -shrieked: - -“Drink not--in God’s name do not drink--the bowl is drugged with death!” - -He flung the bowl aside, but ere it left his hand it was received in the -quick grasp of the monk; he raised his chained hands on high, and ere -they were lowered, his Bride lay panting on his breast! - -Oh, where is the magic of human words that may picture the deep and -fearful interest of that meeting, the gush of contending feelings, the -rapture sparkling in the eye and beaming from the lip, the heart all -pulsation, the blood all fire, the arms flung convulsively round each -other’s neck, the look of the Doomed, the long, last, lingering look -upon the face of the beloved, her upturned eyes, her cheek now crimson -and now snow, her tresses of gold waving over her robes of white, and -her form of beauty flung over his bosom, with every vein swelling with -delight, every nerve quivering with joy! - -They meet as lovers meet, when, standing on the opposing rocks of Time -and Destiny, they fling their arms across the chasm, nor heed the vast -eternity that yawns below, ready to engulf and destroy. - -“Drink not, oh, Adrian, drink not--the bowl is drugged with death!” - -“The time is up,” muttered the hoarse voice of Balvardo--“The guards are -within call, good monk, an’ he refuses the dose.” - -“Adrian Di Albarone,” cried the monk, fixing his full and solemn eyes -upon the chained knight, “drink the bowl, I implore thee! By the memory -of the Cell of the Doomed, by the memory of the Chapel of the Rocks, by -the memory of the perils we have shared, the deaths we dared together, -in the name of thy father, whose ghost now looks down upon thee, in His -name, most solemn and most dread, I adjure thee--drain the goblet to the -dregs!” - -“Dark and mysterious man,” cried Adrian, sharing the wild glance of -Albertine, “give me the bowl, I drink----” - -“Adrian, for my sake touch it not--poison nestles like a snake within -its depths!” - -“Hold me not, Annabel--grasp not my arm--” - -“For the sake of God, oh, do not, do not drink!” - -“I must, I must! It is not thy hand, Albertine, that gives the bowl--it -is the hand of Fate, thrust from yon blackening cloud, which all my life -has thrown its shadow over my path! Give me the bowl--though ten -thousand deaths were darting from each sparkle of the wine, still--I -drink, and drain the goblet to the dregs!” - -In vain the upraised arm of the Ladye Annabel, in vain her look of fear, -her voice of horror! - -As she clung to his chained arms, he raised the goblet to his lips, he -drained it to the dregs. - -“He smiles,” muttered Balvardo, “the monk smiles as he gives the -death-bowl! I see not his cloven foot, nor do I see his horns--not a -whit o’ ’em. Else might I suspect the devil were lurking in yon monkish -robe.” - -Adrian handed the goblet to the monk. - -Albertine received it with a deep and meaning smile. - -Scarce had the hand of Adrian been extended in the act, than his arm -fell like a weight of lead to his side, and Annabel felt her lover -leaning heavily upon her shoulder, while her fair arms might scarce stay -him in his fall to the floor. - -“Monk,” cried Adrian, as, sinking upon one knee, he fixed his ghastly -eyes upon the face of Albertine; “monk I trusted thee, and thou art -false!” - -“His brow is cold,” murmured the Ladye Annabel, as, sinking on her knees -by his side, she supported Adrian’s head upon her virgin bosom. “See! -the big drops of the death-dew stands out from his forehead--and this, -monk, this is thy work!” - -As the terrible look of the dying man met his eye, Albertine seemed -struggling with some terrible pang, but when the words of Annabel and -her look of intense agony came like a death-bolt to his heart, he -hurriedly advanced, he looked at the group, he spoke in a voice -tremulous with agitation, yet deep and solemn in its every accent-- - -“Ye scorn me now, fair Ladye, and raise your hands in a gesture of -reproach most terrible to bear; yet the day will come, when the voice -of scorn will be changed to the sound of pity, when those very hands -will strew fresh flowers over my grave!” - -“Has ---- given up its model of devils!” muttered Balvardo, in the -background. “‘Slife, I can murder a man in hot blood or cold blood, but -as for this heaping taunt on taunt--I like it not--by the Blood o’ th’ -Turk!” - -“He is dead--cold and dead,” murmured the Ladye Annabel, as she gazed -upon the pallid face of Adrian. “He does not breathe; Mother of Heaven, -I cannot feel the beating of his heart!” - -Ere the words had passed her lips, the dying man sprang with one bound -to his feet; and while his bloodshot eyes rolled ghastlily from face to -face, he flung his arms aloft, and tottered across the chamber, laughing -wildly and with maniac glee, as he pointed to the dark object rising -from the floor, covered with the folds of the dark robe, that swept over -its surface like a pall of death. - -“Monk, behold--behold the doom of Adrian of Albarone!” he shouted with a -wild and husky voice, as he stooped, with a sudden movement, and tore -the robe from the object which it concealed. “There, there stands the -assassin, here the victim, and--ha, ha, ha!--_behold the coffin!_” - -He swayed heavily from side to side; he flung his arms hurriedly aloft -in the vain effort to preserve his balance, and then, with a fixed and -staring eye, he gazed upon the face of Albertine with a look that froze -his blood. - -“Monk, I trusted thee, and thou art false!” - -The sound of a falling body echoed around the room, and the lifeless -form of Adrian Di Albarone lay extended across the coffin, while the -out-spread hands clutched the dark panels with the convulsive grasp of -death. - -“Wait one hour,” muttered the monk to Balvardo; “wait one hour, ere thou -bearest the corse to the grave. ’Tis now the midnight hour: an hour from -this time, the Duke--ha, ha!--will wed his bride; an hour from this -time, and thou mayst bear the corse to the grave!” - -“Be it so,” growled Balvardo. “Then this pestilent Adrian will trouble -me no more! Blood o’ Mahound, the grave is a wondrous sure prison; it -needs nor bolt nor bar; old Death stands jailor at its door!” - -“Ladye!” cried the monk, as he advanced to the side of the Ladye -Annabel, raising the maiden, whose senses seemed stupified with horror, -from the floor, “behold the corse of thy love! Advance, Ladye--rest thee -by its side--gather the head of the corse to thy bosom! Watch beside the -corse one hour--a single hour--and let nor man nor devil wrest the -lifeless body from thy grasp!” - -The Ladye Annabel opened her large blue eyes with a stare of vacant -wander, and smiled as she gathered the head of the corpse to her bosom, -twining her fair and delicate lingers in the golden hair of the dead. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTH. - -THE CELL OF ST. ARELINE. - - -A lamp of iron, all rusted and time-eaten, suspended from the arched -ceiling of a small apartment of the convent of St. Benedict, reserved in -especial for strangers, threw a dim light over the figure of his grace -of Florence, reposing on a velvet couch, and upon the blazing armor of -the attending men-at-arms, who waited beside their lord. - -A smile, full of self-satisfaction, rested upon the lip of the Duke, and -a glance full of agreeable fancies lit up his eye, as he contemplated -the fulfillment of all his schemes. - -“The forward boy punished for his insolence,”--thus ran his -musings--“done to death for the treasonable act of lifting his hand -against his liege lord--this accomplished, the fair Annabel is mine, and -with her I acquire the rich domains of Albarone. A servitor but a moment -since bears me intelligence that she has recovered from her madness. -By’r Ladye, my exhausted coffers shall be replenished to the brim! -Ha--ha ha! Then I shall war and conquer. Why not _I_ as well as others -of my rank and power? I shall war--I shall conquer--I shall--” - -“My Lord Duke,” exclaimed a sentinel, thrusting his head from between -the folds of a sable curtain that hung across the apartment, dividing it -from an adjoining chamber, within whose walls were the followers of his -grace. “My Lord Duke, a monk of the convent craves audience with your -grace--shall I admit him?” - -“Aye, let him enter.” - -And in a moment, there stood before the Duke a monk attired in the dark -robe of his order: his hood was drawn over his face, and, with depressed -head and folded arms, he seemed to wait the commands of his grace of -Florence. - -“Thy errand, sir monk?” - -“I come by the bidding of the Father Abbot, to lead thee to the cell of -the blessed St. Areline.” - -“Ah! I remember me. As I dismounted at the gate of the Monastery, the -reverend abbot told me that it had been a custom, from time past memory, -for all strangers visiting the holy house of St. Benedict, to pass an -hour in the cell of this saint--St. Areline, methinks she is styled. -Further, he told me the saint has the power of revealing future events. -Is’t so, holy father?” - -“Even so, my Lord Duke. When besought, on bended knee, in the silence of -midnight, the form of the blessed saint appears fired with supernatural -life: her eyes flash and her lips move, and the doom of the -suppliant--whether for good or for evil--is revealed.” - -“At midnight, say’st thou? ’Tis a lone hour. By’r our Ladye, but the -evil one may have something to do with the matter.” - -“That may not be, my Lord Duke. The holy Areline died in the odor of -sanctity. The scorner and the outcast of heaven alone doubt her holiness -and power. For three centuries hath the fame of St. Areline been sounded -abroad, and now it were sin unpardonable to say aught against her sacred -name.” - -“Lead on, holy father; in God’s name, lead on: I’ll follow thee. Hugo! I -say, Hugo!” - -The face of the ill-looking sentinel with the squinting eye, appeared -among the folds of the sable curtain. - -“Hugo, where is Balvardo, thy comrade--eh? Speak quickly--where is -Balvardo?” - -The sinister eye of the sentinel squinted yet more fearfully; he looked -confusedly round, and stammered forth: - -“My Lord Duke, he is--he is--” - -He paused suddenly, and finished the sentence by pointing downward with -the forefinger of the right hand, with a sort of diving motion. - -“Ah! I had forgotten _that_, good Hugo! Thou wilt attend me, vassals; -and ye, sirs, shall also accompany me to this midnight ceremony.” - -While he thus spoke, the monk threw open a door at the end of the -apartment opposite the sable curtain, and, followed by the Duke, -attended by Hugo and the two men-at-arms, with torches in their hands, -he presently was traversing a long gallery, with his head still -depressed and his arms still folded on his breast. - -“By’r our Lady, but thou art wondrous chary of thy good looks!--eh, sir -monk?” - -“It becomes not a sinner like me to be otherwise than humble. It becomes -not a poor brother of St. Benedict to assume an erect port and a bold -countenance before--_his grace of Florence_!” - -“Well said, by my troth! Whither art leading me, holy father? Ha! a -stairway; it extends above us as though it had no end. Ugh! how those -torches glare--how gloomy these arches seem! Lead on, sir monk!” - -Ascending the stairway, they found themselves in a winding gallery, with -floor of stone, low arching roof, and narrow walls. Through the mazes of -this passage they swiftly wound, and presently they stood at the foot of -another stairway. - -“By St. Peter!” exclaimed the Duke, “but these passages are like the -windings of a witch’s den. How runs the night, holy father?” - -“When I left the halls of the convent, the sands of the hour glass had -fallen to within an half hour of midnight.” - -“Ah! we shall be just in time for the trial of St. Areline’s power. -Another gallery! By’r Ladye, but this is wondrous! In the name of thy -patron, St. Benedict, I adjure thee, monk, tell me are we not near our -journey’s end?” - -“See’st thou yon oaken door that terminates the gallery? The oaken door -with large panels, and topped by arches of dark stone? There an’ it -please thee, my Lord Duke, must thou leave thy attendants, and alone, -and in the dark, we will enter the cell of the blessed St. Areline.” - -“How? Leave my attendants? ‘Alone,’ sayst thou? ‘In the dark’? Beshrew -me, sir monk, but this saint of thine is somewhat difficult of -audience!” - -“The reward she offereth is beyond price. A knowledge of the future--the -dim and shadowy future! Thou shall behold thy coming deeds written in -characters of light; thy future conquests shall spread themselves before -thee like the varying beauties of a lovely landscape. Thou shall--” - -“‘Slife! thou talkest well! Enough: we stand before the oaken door. -Enter--I’ll follow thee!” - -The monk passed his hand over one of the panels of the huge door, and -pressing a secret spring, a narrow passage was opened, through which the -brother of St. Benedict disappeared, followed by his grace of Florence. - -“There they go,” Hugo exclaimed as the panel closed. “There they go upon -their madcap adventure. The saints save me from all such folly!” - -“And me, comrade,” cried the tallest of the men-at-arms, letting the -sheath of his sword fall heavily upon the pavement of stone. - -“I say amen to your prayers,” exclaimed the other, looking very wise in -the torchlight. - -“Ha! what noise is that?” cried Hugo, as he gave a sudden start. - -“’Tis down in the court-yard,” exclaimed the tall man-at-arms. “Hark! -’tis the clashing of swords--the rattling of spears--the clashing of -armor.” - -“Shouts, too!” cried the other soldier, “Ha! war cries! ‘Slife! it -sounds as if they were battering down the gates! Hark! again! and -again!” - -And thus, while the sounds waxed louder, and the cries grew fiercer in -the court-yard below, the men-at-arms, and their companion, Hugo, -waited, with the utmost impatience the coming of their lord. - -An hour passed. - -The Duke had not appeared. The tall man-at arms fixed his eyes upon the -massive door, and struck the secret panel with his spear, urged by all -the vigor of his stalwart arm. Another and another blow. The wood -yielded, and the open space gave passage to the man-at-arms, who forced -his way through, followed by his comrade and Hugo of the sinister eye. - -Their torches flashed upon the walls of a square apartment, with floor -and roof of stone. No living creature was there. A small, narrow door -gave entrance to another apartment. Three pillars of time-worn stone -supported the arched roof, and divided the place into three sides, with -floor of variegated stone. One side of the apartment, was concealed by a -curtain of sable velvet. - -This Hugo hurriedly drew, and in an instant his ungainly figure was -reflected in a vast mirror of dazzling steel, which, reaching to the -arched ceiling above, twice the height of a man, extended on either side -as wide as it was high. Around the apartment was no sign of passage way -or secret door; all was bare and rugged stone, and the place was without -bench, stool, couch, or furniture of any kind. - -“By’r Ladye!” shouted Hugo, “that monk was the--devil, and he has run -away with our lord! W-h-e-w!” - -And the three fairly shook with mingled surprise and terror, which was -presently increased to alarm and horror by the clashing of arms in the -outer apartment. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIFTH. - -THE WONDERS OF ST. ARELINE. - - -No sooner had the oaken panel closed behind him, than the Duke found -himself cautiously groping his way in utter darkness, being guided by -the sound of the footsteps of the Monk. - -Presently the Monk laid hand upon the Duke’s shoulder. - -“Kneel, mortal, kneel,” he exclaimed in a voice which the Duke thought -wondrously changed of a sudden, “kneel and behold the wonders of St. -Areline! Speak not upon the peril of thy immortal soul!” - -Upon the pavement of stone the Duke sank down, and the Monk began to -murmur certain mysterious words, in a low, yet deep tone, and thus he -continued for the space of the fourth part of an hour, when a light was -seen dimly gleaming at one end of the place, and presently another and -another, and gradually increasing in radiance they soon appeared to the -wondering eyes of the Duke, dancing within the surface of a vast mirror -of dazzling steel. - -Strange it was that although the meteors,--for such they seemed--grew -more brilliant every moment, and shed a more intense brightness along -the surface of the mirror in which they shone, yet not a ray of light -escaped to illumine the apartment, and the figures of the Duke and the -Monk were wrapt in mid-night shadow. - -And now soft clouds of feathery mist began to roll within the surface of -the mirror, and the meteors gradually faded away into an universal -brightness, which like the mellow beams that herald the coming day, -poured a flood of rosy light over the tumultuous chaos within the -dazzling steel. - -“Behold!” cried the Monk, “behold the blessed St. Areline!” - -A dim and ghastly form arose from amid the rolling clouds, far in the -distance; nearer it drew and nearer, and presently the outlines of a -nun, attired in the solemn hood, and sweeping robes of white, became -clear and perceptible. - -Advancing to the front of the mirror with a gliding motion, the hands of -the spectre were folded upon its breast, and the hood of white, hung -drooping over its face. - -The Duke trembled with terror, and his brow was wet with large drops of -moisture that oozed from his shivering skin. - -“_Mortal!_” exclaimed a voice, soft as the tones of a spirit of -light,--“_mortal, what wouldst thou know?_” The voice came from the -shrouded face of the spectre. - -With tremulous voice, and as if urged by some invisible power, the Duke -shrieked forth-- - -“I would know my doom--I would know my fate!” - -The hood fell back from the head of the Spectre, and its arms slowly -extended! - -“O Jesu!” shrieked the Duke,--“Look, look! the skeleton hands, the -fleshless skull, the hollow eyes! One hand grasps a cross, and one a -grinning skull.--Look, look!” - -“Speak not!” whispered the Monk, “speak not upon pain of eternal doom!” - -The voice again sounded through the cell. - -“Dost thou seek in the name of the Holy One? Dost thou ask trusting in -his Saints?” - -“I do!” - -“Thou art answered!” and the bare and hideous bones of the spectre head -were covered, quick as a flash of light, with ruddy and healthy flesh, -the hollow sockets gleamed with dark and brilliant orbs, and the -skeleton hands glowed with life, as a skin of rosy loveliness shrouded -the disjointed bones. - -“Thou art answered!” and as the spectre whispered the words, a skeleton -form came gliding along the mirror, holding an hour-glass in its -fleshless hand. - -“_Behold!_” exclaimed the vision pointing to the things of graves, -“_behold thy doom?_” - -A shriek of horror came from the lips of the Duke. - -“O, horror of horrors!” he shouted, “It is the form of Death!--Look! -look! Behold! He turns, he turns with a ghastly smile--he points to the -hour glass!” The tyrant, assassin and betrayer started forward with -every nerve quivering with the intensity of his terror. “O God of -Heaven! _The Sands of the glass are run!_” - -“Ha!” shrieked the Monk, with a wild yell, that sounded like the howl of -a dying war-horse. “Heaven wills it, thy sands are run, thy doom is -fixed!” - -A stream of light poured around the cell, brighter than the blaze of the -noon-day sun, and a clap of thunder shook the pillars to their very -centre. - -With his eyes rolling with affright, the Duke glanced upward, and beheld -the Monk standing erect, his arms outstretched, and his hood cast -backward from his face. - -“O God! _Thou_ here! Albertine--thou here!” - -“Ha! It is _I_!--Thy fate--thy curse--thy doom!” - -The Duke felt himself seized in a grasp of iron, and hurriedly dragged -along the pavement of stone. - -In a moment he heard the sharp spring of a door closing behind him, and -brushing his hand over his eyes, to restore his fading vision, he looked -around. - -A spur of the whitened steep on which the convent was founded, arising -some twenty feet above the body of the mass of rock, was imbedded in the -darkened wall of the tower, with its summit extending in a platform some -three feet square, toppling over the dark abyss below. - -Level as the sun-dial and smooth as polished steel, the summit of the -rock, projecting from the tower, might scarce afford a resting place for -footstep of human thing. In silence and in awe the Duke gazed around. - -Above was the moonlit sky, below far, far below, a hundred fathoms down -sunk the dark and shadowy abyss, separated from the waters of the lake -by a ridge of rocks, that arose along the shores of the mountain tarn, -overlooking the sullen blackness of the impenetrable void, on one side, -while on the other towered and frowned above the walls of the gloomy -convent. - -Gazing hurriedly around, the Duke beheld the walls of the Monastery, -extending on either side of the tower, in whose stones the platform-rock -was imbedded, all smooth, even and moss-grown; at his back leading into -the cell of St. Areline, was the secret door, fashioned in complete -resemblance to the wall around, fast closed and secured, while high -overhead arose the dark and frowning fabric of the tower, its rugged -outline, rising like a thing of omen into the dim blue of the midnight -sky. - -This platform of rock was never looked upon by the peasantry of the -valley, save with wonder and with awe--a thousand dark traditions, named -the tower as the scene of many a deed of murder, and a thousand legends -dyed the platform stone with the crimson drops of innocent blood. - -“Where am I,” shrieked the Duke with a low, murmured whisper. “It is a -dream, a dream of horror!” - -“Thou art in the temple of my vengeance!” the response came hissing -between the clenched teeth of the monk. “Behold its roof, yon sky, the -walls, the boundless horizon, the floor, the wide earth; and the place -of sacrifice, yon bottomless abyss!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SIXTH. - -THE WATCH BESIDE THE DEAD. - - -“All--all is dark!” the voice broke wild and whisperingly through the -midnight gloom of the place--“I have been dreaming--ah, me--a sad and -darksome dream! Methought Adrian lay cold and dead in my arms, while my -hand was entwined in the locks of his clustering hair, as they fell over -his lifeless face. It was a dream, a fearful dream--yet--mother of -heaven--do I still dream, or is this darkness real?” - -She extended her hands, she passed them hurriedly along the floor, where -her form lay prostrate, and as she thus wildly sought to grasp the form -so lately reposing in her arms, she exclaimed with a murmured shriek-- - -“It flashes on me! All is real--The coffin and the corse, the assassin -and the bowl of death--all is dark and terrible reality!” - -Passing her cold and stiffened hands, slowly along her forehead, the -Ladye Annabel endeavored to recall the tragedy of that fearful night, in -all its details of horror, and as scene after scene, action after -action, word succeeding word, came back to her memory, another fearful -mystery passed like a shadow over her brain. - -“The corse reposed in these arms--where is it now? Who hath stolen the -body of the dead from my embrace? And the coffin--it is gone! They have -borne him to the grave!” - -And as the low whispers broke from her lips, this fair and gentle -creature, whose nature was soft and yielding, as is ever the nature of a -_true woman_, in moments of calm and sunshine, yet susceptible of deeds -of the highest courage and noblest determination, in the hour of storm -and cloud arose from the floor, her frame all chilled and stiffened by -the hard repose of that fearful watch, and extending her hands she -wandered slowly around the chamber, seeking with hushed breath, for the -coffin and the corse. - -All was darkness, thick and intense darkness. - -Slowly and with cautious steps she paced around the room, passing her -hands along the folds of the tapestry, or extending her small and -delicate foot in the effort to touch the coffin, but her search was all -in vain. She wandered around the chamber, until her recollection of the -particular features of the room became vague and indistinct, and at last -with trembling hands and a bewildered brain, she stood erect and -motionless. - -“All--all is vain!” she cried--“corse and coffin are all gone. They have -borne him to the grave!” - -While the weary moments dragged heavily on, she stood silent and -unmovable, endeavoring to catch the faintest echo of a sound, or hear -the slightest whisper of a voice, but all was silent as death. - -At last a distant and moaning murmur reached her ears. - -Gradually though slowly it deepened into a booming sound, and at last -the subterranean arches of the old convent seemed alive with gathering -echoes, and the long corridors gave back the tramp of footsteps and the -hum of human voices. - -“They come--they come”--whispered the Ladye Annabel--“They come to bear -me to the bridal!” - -The bell of the convent, deep-toned and booming, rang out the hour -of--one--the fatal hour after midnight. - -“Strike for the Winged Leopard--strike for Albarone!” the shout came -echoing along the corridors. - -“Strike for Albarone and Florence!” the mingling war-cry reached the -ears of the maiden. And in a moment, the tapestry, concealing the -entrance to the room from which Adrian had issued ere he drank the bowl, -was hurriedly thrust aside, and amid the blaze of torches, the Ladye -Annabel, beheld the glare of armor and the flash of upraised swords, -while the stern visage of the warrior-band were gazing upon her pale -countenance and trembling form. - -“Saved, by St. Withold!” shouted a soldier, springing from the -crowd--“Ladye tell us, in God’s name, where is the Lord Adrian?” - -“They have borne him to the grave!” was the whispered and ghastly -response. - -The bluff soldier turned aside, and it might be noted that his blue eyes -were wet with tears. In a moment he again faced the crowd of warriors. - -“Behold the Queen!” he shouted, and the men-at-arms sank kneeling to the -floor--“all hail the fair Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence!” - -And the solitary chamber rung with the echo of the thunder shout-- - -“All hail the Fair Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SEVENTH. - -THE COFFIN AND THE CORSE. - -THE CLOCK STRIKES ONE, AND THE SWORDER SEALS HIS FATE BY A TOUCH OF THE -FATAL SPRING. - - -Far beneath the Convent, down in the very bosom of the earth, far -beneath the chamber of the death-bowl, alone and in darkness, rested the -coffin and the corse for the space of an hour, awaiting the spade and -the Sexton, the priest with his prayers, and the grave with its silence. - -The sound of trampling feet, broke along the silence of the earth hidden -passage, and presently, through the crevices of the dungeon door, thin -rays of light streamed along the cell. - -Then there was drawing of bolts, and rattling of chains, and in an -instant the ruddy glare of torches, revealed the ill-looking form of -Balvardo, standing in the doorway, and beside him stood a short, thin -old man, with slight locks of gray hair, falling upon his coarse -doublet. - -There was a vacant and wandering expression in his eye, while his -parched lips, hanging apart, gave an idiotic appearance to his -countenance. The long, talon-like fingers of his withered right hand, -grasped a spade covered with rust, and eaten by time. - -“Ha--ha!” laughed Balvardo. “The potion which I gave _her_, some hours -ago, wrapt her in a sleep, like the slumber of old death. Blood o’ the -Turk, how her hands clutched the body o’ the dead, when I first tried to -tear it from her arms--even in her sleep she clutched it! I have him at -last--sound and sure! He escaped me in the cell of the Doomed, escaped -this sword in the Cavern of the Dead, and--and--now, by the fiend I have -him at last!” - -The Sworder advanced to the Coffin, he gazed upon the pale face of the -dead, with a long and anxious look. - -“He, he, he,” chuckled the old man. “Why did thou hate him, noble -Captain?” - -“I know not,” muttered Balvardo, with an absent air, “yet I always had a -sneaking suspicion that one day or other, this man, now a corse, would -work my death! A queer feeling always haunted me, that made me feel like -the felon walking to his doom, so long as this--father-murderer remained -alive! Now he is dead, but I fear him yet, and will fear him till he is -safely buried i’ the earth!” - -“Thou wouldst cover his face with this rich, yellow earth?” sneered the -ancient man,--“He, he, he! The grave hides all secrets!” - -“To thy duty, Old Gibber-jabber,” exclaimed Balvardo, “Here’s thy man. -Lay hold of him, and help me to drag the coffin to the other side of the -dungeon. Pull him along--there--there!” - -Throwing the coffin upon the damp earth, the old man placed a smoking -lamp near the prostrate head of the corse, and then intently watched the -motions of Balvardo, who was drawing the point of his sword along the -surface of the earth. - -“Let me do’t, let me do’t, most noble captain,” exclaimed the old man, -pushing Balvardo aside,--“for years, and years, and years, man and boy, -have I wielded this good spade, here in these nice, cozy, comfortable -chambers! He--he--he! To think a fellow like thee, with that miserable -tool, that is unworthy to be called a--spade--to think that a stranger -like thee, should think to excel me--Old Glow-worm--in laying out a -grave!--He--he--he!” - -“Old Glow-worm!--Ha, ha, ha!--a choice name by my soul!” - -“A very good name; _they_ call me so--they who bring me food every -day--they poke it through the big door through which thou didst pass, -most noble captain. A merry time we’ve had of it here--a merry time!” - -“_We!_--who dost thou mean?” - -“Well! Thou art a fool, beshrew me!--_we_, I and my comrades, who always -receive our food at the big iron door. Here, long, long, very long, we -have lived in these nice cozy chambers.--Sometimes _they_ fight and kill -one another--then I dig their graves! See! how nicely the rich earth -turns up! This is a spade!” - -Prattling after this fashion, the poor old idiot turned up the earth -till he stood in a square hole about a foot in depth, when a glance at -the pale visage of Adrian arrested his attention. - -“He, he, he! _They always look so!_--Queer,--eh, noble captain!” - -“What! hast ever had any other business of this sort?” - -“Why, bless ye, most noble captain, I’ve put scores and scores of them -under the rich, yellow earth. _They_ bring ’em to me--_they_ at the big -iron door. This is earth for ye! Look! how the spade sinks into the -mould!--He, he, he!” - -“What an old devil!” muttered Balvardo to himself. “How canst thou be -merry in these gloomy pits! eh, Old One!” - -“Merry?--He, he, he! _Merry_ didst say, why bless ye, when I and my -comrades gather round our food, I am as merry as is the sound of this -spade, driving into the earth! Merry! why I sing, most noble captain, I -sing!” - -“_Thou_ sing! Ha, ha, ha! Thou, indeed!” - -“Why not I, eh? Beshrew me but thou art a fool! I can sing such a right -mirthful song--but they never like it--they my comrades!” - -“By Saint Peter, I’ll wager a stoup of wine, that thou didst never see -the light of day--eh, old rat?” - -“_Day!_ what is that?--But for my song--here goes!” - -And then busily plying the spade, in a cracked voice he sang the -following words, in a sort of wild chaunt, which he occasionally varied -by sounds that resembled the yell of a screech-owl. - - THE SONG OF THE ANCIENT MAN.[8] - - DIG THE GRAVE AND DIG IT DEEP. - - Dig the grave and dig it deep-- - Straight with the mattock dig each side, - Dig it low, and dig it steep-- - Dig it long and dig it wide! - - - -As he sang, the old man plunged the spade lustily into the earth, and -throwing aside the large lumps of clay, he continued with great glee-- - - Here while nations rise and fall, - Here while ages glide, - Here wrapt within its earthy pall, - Must the crumbling corse abide! - Then raise the chaunt, - Then swell the stave, - Here’s to death, all grim and gaunt, - And to his home--the grave! - -He wound this up with an unnatural noise, half shriek, and half yell, -and the hollow and dread dungeon arches gave back the strain. - -“He, he, he!--I know a merrier catch than that! List ye, my noble -captain.” - -He then made a motion with his hand, as if in the act of drinking, and -then a shout of wild laughter sounded through the cell. - - - Ha, ha! Ha, ha!--Drink to the full, - Drink to the sound of the clanking bone; - Fill high with wine the fleshless skull, - And swell the toast without a moan-- - - Hurra! for Death with his bony hands, - Hurra! for Death with his skeleton form, - He holds the thunderbolt.--On high he stands, - He mows them down in calm or storm-- - -He swept his spade around with maniac glee, and then in a voice louder -and shriller, while his shrunken breast heaved with the wildness of his -emotion, he sang, - - Then raise the chaunt, - Then swell the stave, - Here’s to Death, all grim and gaunt, - And to his home--the grave. - -“A brave song! Ha, ha, ha! By my faith a brave song! Where didst pick it -up, Old Screech-Owl, eh?” - -“Glow-worm is my name,” replied the other demurely,--“Glow-worm--ah! but -this is rich earth! Look! what big, lusty clumps. He, he, he! How cold -and pale he looks--he that I am to bury--See!” - -“He doth look cold and pale!” muttered Balvardo. “Is the grave deep -enough, Devil-darkness? Let’s house him in’ th’ earth without delay.” - -“The grave scarce reaches to my middle--deeper let us dig it, noble -captain--deeper!” - -“I tell thee, Devil-darkness, I cannot look upon the cold and stony face -of the dead! Deeper thou mayest dig the grave--but the body must be -hidden from sight in the meanwhile. ‘Slife--I left my cloak in the -vaults above, and I have no robe to throw over the coffin!” - -“He--he--he, thou’rt a brave man, yet poor old Glow-worm knows more than -thee! Look around the cell, most noble captain, and tell me what thou -see’st!” - -“I see the rough walls of stone, the roof of rock, the floor of clay. -Not a whit more, by the Fiend!” - -“Look again--pass thine eyes along the wall opposite yon oaken door. -What see’st thou now, most noble captain?” - -“I see a bolt of iron, rusted and time-eaten, projecting from the -wall--” - -“Wouldst know how to open a passage into the stone room, next to this -cell? Move the bolt quickly to and fro, and yon massy stone will roll -back into the stone-room! Thou canst lay the coffin within its walls, -until the grave is deep enow.” - -“The bolt moves--ha! The stone, the massive stone glides from the -wall--another push at the bolt! There--blood o’ Mahound, I behold a -dark passage into this dismal room! ‘Slife! there is a current of air -rushing from this open space--what may it mean?” - -“Dost wish to hide the corse? Eh--most noble captain? Lay hold of -t’other end o’ th’ coffin, and I will raise this end. We’ll bear it to -the stone-room!” - -In a moment they raised the coffin, and bearing it toward the open -space, Balvardo retreated backwards, through the passage, and in another -instant was lost to view, while the foot of the coffin still projected -into the dungeon-cell. - -“Bear it through the passage, Glow-worm!” cried Balvardo. “In a moment -we will have it laid along the floor of this dreary place!” - -“It is heavy,” cried the old man; “my strength fails me. Thou wilt have -to bear the burden thyself, most noble captain! Glow-worm lifts no heavy -burden!” - -“Be it so,” growled Balvardo. “Slife I like not to be alone with the -dead! Slowly, slowly, drag the coffin along the floor of stone, -there--it rests against the wall! Now for the grave.” - -“What dreary sound is that, thundering far above? Oft have I heard it, -yet ne’er could tell what it might mean?” - -“The Convent clock strikes--one!” muttered Balvardo. “A few moments and -my reward is sure!” - -“Beware the secret spring!” shrieked the old man, as though his crazed -mind had been fixed by some sudden thought. “Beware the secret spring! -It sticks from the floor near the very wall, where thou hast laid the -coffin. An’ thy foot presses the spring the stone rolls back, and--he, -he, he--_thou art buried alive_!” - -It was too late! Even as the old man spoke, Balvardo stumbled along the -floor of the stone-room, his foot pressed the point of iron projecting -from the floor, and the massive rock rolled back to its place, in the -masonry of the substantial wall. - -“I fear, I fear,” murmured the old man, gazing around with an affrighted -look; “I fear _they_,” pointing above, “_they_ will lash me for this! -He, he, he! I bade him beware of the spring within the stone-room, and -he would not. I cannot turn this bolt, the old man is not strong enough. -Ha, ha, here is a torch; Glow-worm has not had a torch in his hand for -years! Ho, ho, ho, the noble captain came here to bury the dead, and, -ho, ho, ho, he _is buried alive_!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE EIGHTH. - -THE FATE OF THE BETRAYER. - - - SWEETER THAN THE LOVE OF WOMAN, DEARER THAN GLORY TO THE WARRIOR, - POWER TO THE PRINCE, OR HEAVEN TO THE DEVOTEE, IS THE CONSUMMATION - OF A LONG SOUGHT AND SILENTLY TREASURED REVENGE. - -“Where am I?” shrieked the Duke, as he stood upon the platform of the -convent tower. “‘Tis a hideous dream, ’tis a fearful nightmare! Ha! my -brain reels. I’ll gaze no longer down the fearful abyss! Is there none -to awake me, none? Horror of horrors! This demon hand will strangle me, -closer and tighter it winds around my throat, ah!” - -A wild laugh of intense joy came from the chest of the Monk. “I feast -upon thy misery,” he cried, “wretch, I banquet upon thy agony! Ha, ha, -ha! _The glory of this moment I would not barter for all the joys of -heaven!_ Dost thou shiver, dost thou tremble, well thou mayst! Look -down, far, far below! Dost see any hope there, what says the whitened -precipice? Hath the dark abyss no voice? Look above, canst glean naught -from the frown of the tower that is over thy doomed and devoted head? Or -mayhap the secret door may afford thee consolation? Speak--thou for -whose crime earth hath no word, hell no name, speak that I may feast -upon the music of thy quailing voice!” - -Tighter he wound his grasp around the throat of the trembling wretch, -and with his dark eye flashing with all the frenzy of supernatural -revenge, he shook the form of the Duke over the awful abyss. - -“Is’t thou, good Albertine? Hold, hold, or I shall fall. ’Tis a fearful -steep! Behold, a flock of snow-white sheep are grazing in yon distant -vale, they seem but as mice at this fearful height. Thou, thou wilt not -harm me, good Albertine?” - -“Look, look!--Behold her pale form is floating in the moonlight, her -face is wan, and her look is that of despair! Ha! her glazing eyes are -fixed upon thee--_thee_--her BETRAYER! She beckons me over the steep!--I -come--I come!” - -“Nay, good Albertine, grasp me not so tight!--Bring to mind the days -when we were sworn friends--” - -“_Friends?_ Doomed man, the memory of former days shall but hurl -accumulated torture upon thy head!--FRIENDS?--Ah! like a dream it comes -over my mind! I was a peasant boy--thou didst raise me to rank and -power, and I have loved ye as brother loves brother. Could my life have -served thee, it would have been laid at thy feet. My life thou did’st -not take. No! no! But the treasured hope of years, the glowing fancies -of a musing boy, the anticipations of happiness that haunted my dreams -by night, and lived in my thoughts by day; these--at one fell -remorseless blow, thou did’st sweep away. It was upon _her_ grave; the -grave of thy victim, that one thought possessed my soul. For years and -years have I planned, have I schemed, nay wept, _prayed_ for the -fulfilment of that thought. And now it is fulfilled. I have thee in my -grasp! Think’st thou a thousand worlds would buy thy craven life? That -heaven or hell would tear thee from my hand?” - -Again he gave utterance to the frenzied joy of his soul in a loud wild -laugh, that burst fearfully upon the midnight air. - -“Albertine spare me, spare me! Take not my life.” - -“Spare thee? and yon pale form waving me onward? spare thee? wretch, I -tell thee all nature is celebrating thy doom! The moon is sinking below -the horizon, and the stars gleam through the gathering pall of darkness -like funeral fires! _Spare thee!_” - -“Ha! whence come those shouts! I may yet be saved!” - -“Thou mayst be saved--ha--ha--ha! It gives me joy to drag thee o’er this -steep, craving and hoping for life, to thy latest grasp! Look around -Urbano, Duke of Florence, look around and behold the fair and beautiful -earth, scene of thy crimes--nay, nay THY CRIME--behold the earth for the -last time!” - -It was a weird and awful scene. - -The dizzy height of the platform rock, the vast azure with its boundless -horizon, all beaming with the grandeur of the stars, the massive hills -sweeping around the mountain-lake, darkening the clear waters with their -midnight shadow, the pile of rocks uprising beyond the darkness of the -unfathomable abyss, the silence and the awe that rested upon the hour, -broken by the sound of far-off shouts, while on the very verge of the -eastern sky, bloody and red, the full-orbed moon was sinking slowly -down, casting a dim and lurid light over mountain and stream, convent -and plain--all formed a scene of dark and fearful interest. - -The Universe, awful and vast, seemed to hold a strange sympathy with the -Revenge of Albertine the Monk, the stars gave their solemn light to the -scene, and the blood-red moon lit up the funeral pile of the Doomed. - -“I gaze around, ’tis an awful scene. And thou, thou wilt spare me, good -Albertine?” - -“As thou didst spare thy victim, when her voice rung in thy ears of -stone, shrieking for pity!” The response came hissing through the -clenched teeth of Albertine! “Betrayer, I again tell thee all nature is -celebrating thy doom! The moon is sinking below the horizon, and the -stars gleam through the gathering pall of darkness like funeral fires!” - -Thrilled with terror and appalled to the very soul, by the erect form -and flashing eye of the Monk, the Duke stood trembling and quivering -like a reed, on the verge of the platform rock. - -“Choose the manner of thy death! Leap from the rock, or behold, I raise -before thy very eyes this dagger; the dagger of the Holy Steel!” - -“Thou wilt not slay me thus, good Albertine,” shrieked the Duke. -“Mercy--for the sake of God--mercy!” - -“Thine own _mercy_ I give back to thee! Leap from the rock, or this -dagger seeks thy heart. Ha! that pale form, that dim and shadowy face, -floating in the midnight air, with the eyes of speechless woe! She -beckons me onward. He comes, pale spirit--thy betrayer comes! An -instant, and lo! before the bar of eternity he shall tremble at the -frown of the Unknown!” - -It was a scene of sickening horror, yet dignified and consecrated by the -mighty revenge of the monk. - -His face pale as death, his lips livid with fear, his eyes rolling and -vacant in their glance, the Duke stepped tremblingly backward, while the -monk strode one step forward, raising the keen steel aloft, with a slow -movement, yet with a quick eye and a determined arm. - -“Leap--leap--or the dagger seeks thy heart!” - -The Duke looked wildly around, and, shaking his hands aloft, gnashed his -teeth in very despair. - -Another moment! - -The monk alone stood on the platform, while a rushing sound swept -through the air, far, far below, as though a weight of iron had been -toppled from the rock. - -Albertine slowly advanced to the edge of the platform, and gazed into -the void below. - -With a fixed and glaring eye, with the dagger raised aloft in his right -hand, he gazed below, and beheld the folds of a garment waving through -the darkened air, while a yell most fearful and maddening to hear, came -shrieking from the darkness of the void, resounding to the very heavens -above, until the air grew animate with the sound of despair--unutterable -despair. - -Then came a crashing sound, as though a heavy body had fallen against -the projecting points of the rugged rocks, and then all became silent. - -Silence gathered over the universe, like one vast brooding shadow of -omen and doom. - -The wild flush of excitement vanished from the face of the monk. - -With a calm brow, a compressed lip, a cheek pale as death, and a full -dark eye, that seemed blazing forth from the shadow of the brow, he -folded his arms silently on his breast, and looked up to the midnight -heavens. - -“She beckons me over the steep, she beckons me; and, with her burning -eyes fixed upon my face, she waves her hands, and bids me--on, on! She -points to the scenes of the past: God of my soul, how real, how vivid, -how like the pictures of memory! The cottage in the vale; the sunshine -sleeping on the roof sheltered by vines; the lordly hall and the -friend--_the friend_--the outrage, the lifeless form, and then comes the -spirit of my desolation, laughing with scorn as he points to the shadow -blackening o’er the dial plate of destiny! - -“Nay, nay, wave not thy hands with that slow and solemn motion--glide -not so ghastly to and fro--thine eyes burn in my very soul! I come, I -come! Albertine glides onward to his bride!” - -With folded arms, with calm and immovable countenance, fixing his glance -upon the vacant air, without a fear, a sorrow, or a sigh, the avenger -stepped from the platform rock, and with the speed of an arrow driven -home by the strong arm of the archer, he sank into the darkness of the -abyss. - -There was a low moaning exclamation of joy, and the setting moon looked -on the falling form no more. - - - - -CHAPTER THE NINTH. - -THREE DAYS ELAPSE. - - -JOY COMES AND POWER, BUT DEATH HAS GRASPED THE VICTIM. - -The morning sunshine, streaming through the deep silled casement of the -convent cell, filled the lonely chamber with light. - -The arching roof and the pavement of stone, the dark gray walls, -thronged with monkish effigies, and the distant corner of the room, all -glowed with warm glimpses of the daybeams, while a solitary soldier -strode slowly along the floor, his brow darkening with a frown, as, with -his clear blue eyes fixed on vacancy his mind was absorbed in painful -thought. - -“St. Withold! and all the Saints in heaven or earth save me now!” he -absently muttered, as his right hand grasped the hilt of his good -sword.--“Here’s a new wonder, a fresh mystery! Three--three days -agone--we were all fighting and slashing, leading murderers to death, -and pulling Dukes from their thrones, daring death in as many shapes as -swords are fashioned, and all for my Lord Adrian, and lo! we bend all -things to our will, dethrone the tyrant, and fill the people’s throats -with an outcry for the new duke, and what comes next? Answer my good -Robin--answer my old friend--where is the new duke? God knows, and the -Saints might tell, an’ we knew how to ask them, but not a whit does -Rough Robin know about the matter. The old priest was wont to tell me -that the ways of HIM above--off with thy cap, Robin--were full of -mysterie. I never knew what he meant till now--” - -The small door of the cell slowly grated on its hinges, and as the -yeoman turned to discover the cause, he beheld standing before him a -cavalier whose form was attired in glossy purple and bright gold, yet -all soiled and tarnished with dust, while his young face, pale and -careworn, bore traces of the fearful struggle that had shaken his soul -within the past few days. - -“Ah--Guiseppo! Pale and careworn--thine attire covered with dust--thy -broken plume sweeping o’er thy brow----whence came ye boy, in such -attire and in such a ghastly trim?” - -“I greet thee, good Robin. Yesternight I left the Castle of -Albarone--this morn I journeyed from the walls of Florence!” - -“Thou dost bear a message?” - -“I come from the nobles and the people of Florence! Three nights agone -the old walls of the fair city rang with the clash of arms and the peal -of trumpet, while the tramp of contending foemen shook the floor of the -ducal palace, and the glimmer of their swords was reflected in the very -mirrors of the Tyrant-Duke. The morning dawned at last, and dawned on -Florence, no longer oppressed by the tyrant, or awed by the vassals of -his power. Then it was that the nobles of Florence named their new Duke, -then it was that the people confirmed their choice, while the solemn -HIGH PRIEST OF THE INVISIBLE, by a parchment scroll affixed to a pillar -of the grand cathedral, pronounced his blessing on the fortune of -Adrian, Count of Albarone and Duke of Florence--” - -“Thus far all was well. Then ye learned the mysterious disappearance of -Lord Adrian? Speak I the truth, Guiseppo? The dark scenes which three -nights agone gave new legends of horror to the walls of this convent of -darkness? The death-bowl administered by the hands of Albertine--the -watch of the Ladye Annabel beside the corse--the disappearance of the -body, and what troubles me but little, the disappearance of the -tyrant-duke? A thousand such dukes might disappear, and we could tell, -without a doubt, what became of them all, ‘the devil takes care of his -own’ saith the adage--” - -“Hast thou no word of the Lord Adrian?” - -“Ask the tombs in the aisles of the convent chapel, which yesternoon we -ransacked in search of his body, and let their yawning mouths tell the -story of our fruitless labor. St. Withold! scarce a foot of earth in the -convent garden that we did not turn to the sun in our search--not a cell -in the earth-hidden recesses of this foul den, that we failed to -illumine with the glare of our torches, not a wizard nook or a -blood-stained corner in this devil’s hall, but was laid open to the -light, in our strange chase after the body of the dead! And it was all -in vain, Guiseppo, all in vain!” - -“The Ladye Annabel--hast thou no word of her, Rough Robin?” - -“St. Withold, I see her now! Traversed we the dark walls in search of -the corse? She went with us, though her feet sunk ankle-deep in the dust -of the dead, at every step. She led us on to the fatal room, where the -corse had been stolen from her grasp, while bewitched by the drugged -potion; she pointed the way to the dark cavern beneath the convent, and -when every heart failed, awed with supernatural fear, she, even the fair -and gentle Ladye Annabel, still cried on, and on! An’ the saints shower -not their blessings on her head, I’ll turn Paynim-hound, and kiss the -crescent!” - -“Dwelleth the Ladye still within the Convent walls?” - -“Since the hour of our search yesternight, she hath shrouded herself -within the recesses of the apartments furnished for her use by the -vassals of Albarone, when they hastened hither, two days agone. Hast -thou a message for the Ladye?” - -“I bear a message for the Ladye, and a parchment scroll for the -INVISIBLE! Robin come hither--a word in thy ear!” - -With the mystic sign of a Neophyte of the Holy Steel, he asked the way -to the solemn place, where the order assembled holding their secret yet -mighty councils. - -“Even now they hold their solemn council, within these convent walls,” -answered Robin the Rough.--“In a moment I’ll lead thee to the secret -chamber. Yet stay a single moment, Guiseppo. Thou knowest I left the -castle on that fearful day, when, when, od’s death I cannot name the -deed--” - -“That blow, Saints of Heaven! will the _memory_ never pass from my -brain! Thou wouldst speak of--of my father?” - -“Does the old man live?” - -“When thou didst leave the castle, I stood watching silently beside the -door of the chamber where lay my father, my own father, stricken down by -the hand--the hand of his own son.” - -“You watched beside the door, while the leech who had been hurried from -the City of Florence disrobed your father, and probed the dagger wound?” - -“And I--I, stood trembling beside the door waiting the appearance of the -leech, every moment expecting to hear the words--‘Thy father is dead! -_Dead_--murdered by his _son_!’ I stood beside the chamber door, all -alive with horror, my fancy picturing the dagger, which but a few hours -agone, I had drawn from his heart, the point crimsoned with one fearful -stain of blood, there I stood, fire in my brain, and hell in my heart, -when--” - -“Ha, ha, ha--Ho, ho, ho! I have the brand, the flaming brand,” a wild -and maddened voice awoke the echoes of the corridor leading to the cell, -with its tones of maniac yell. “Ho, ho, ho! I have the brand, the -flaming brand! Look ye how it flashes on high, ’tis a serpent, a merry -serpent with tongue of fire! Ha, ha, for the brand, the flaming brand!” - -The small door of the cell grated on its hinges, and in the very centre -of the pavement, brandishing a fire-brand over his head, there stood, a -weak and trembling old man, his thin face, with the vacant eye and -hanging lip, flushed with madness, while his voice half shriek and half -yell, rang echoing round the room. - -The brand, ha, ha, the flaming brand! Ha, ha, ye brought the old man no -food! Ho, ho, ho, Old Glow-worm and his comrades starve, yet there is a -merry blaze in the vault below, I trow! Rafters are all aflame, massy -bolts are red with fire, and my comrades go shouting merrily through the -long vaults, waving their brands on high, and singing a joyous song as -they go-- - - “Then raise the chaunt, - Then swell the stave-- - Here’s to Death, all grim and gaunt, - And to his home, the grave!” - - - - -CHAPTER THE TENTH. - -THE MYSTERIES OF THE CHRONICLE. - - - TO BE READ BY ALL WHO WOULD LOOK BEHIND THE CURTAIN OF FATE, AND - GAZE UPON THE SECRET SPRINGS THAT MOVE MEN TO DEEDS OF WOE AND WAR - AND DEATH. - -“Florence is free!” - -“Florence is free!” echoed the Monks of the Holy Steel, and the shout -resounded through the circular room of the tower, repeated by the -Neophytes of the Order, with one wild acclaim, “Florence the fair and -beautiful is free!” - -Slowly the High Priest of the Order arose. - -From the dome of the tower the light fell dimly over the scene. - -The Monks of the Holy Steel were seated around the square table, their -faces veiled, their forms muffled in sable robes. - -The figures of the Neophytes, (or Initiates) were grouped around the -Superiors of the Order. They stood shoulder to shoulder, along the walls -of the Tower-Room, every one with a dagger in his right hand, a torch in -his left. - -The torches were extinguished, for the work of the Order was -accomplished. - -Stately and erect, in the midst of this scene, towered the tall figure -of the High Priest, veiled and muffled like the others, his hands -extended over the heads of the brethren in a gesture of benediction. - -And at the other end of the table sate the veiled Doomsman, his rough -hand appearing from the folds of the black robe, laid upon the handle of -the axe, whose steel was crusted with the rust of blood. - -“Three years ago,” thus spoke the High Priest, “the cry of blood, day -and night, unceasingly and forever, went up to the throne of God calling -for vengeance. - -“From the walls of the fair city it shrieked, from the plain it echoed, -from the mountain side that low moaning voice rose up to the blue sky, -pleading for the doom of the assassin, the death of the tyrant. - -“Then it was in times of blood-shed and slaughter, in the day of foul -misrule and galling wrong, when the grim bravo whetted his knife on the -stones of the altar, and the corses of the murdered crowded the -sanctuary of God, then it was, that a few brave and determined men, -evoked from the shadows of the past, a POWER, mighty yet secret, -blasting as the thunder-stroke, yet invisible as the grave! - -“The POWER of the STEEL--winged by the hands of those twin-sisters of -vengeance, SECRECY and MYSTERY. - -“Three years past, and on the lips of men, there grew a mighty word--the -Steel, the Holy Steel! - -“The bravo still smote his victim in the silence of the night, but ere -the morrow’s sun, the corse of the assassin lay prostrate beside the -murdered. - -“The wronger still pursued his work of violence, but it was by stealth -and in secrecy; the tyrant still filled the air with shrieks of death -and cries of despair, but the trembling tones of his own guilty voice -mingled with the last words of the slain. - -“The secret band were abroad--the invisible struck their keen dagger -suddenly and without mercy, from the cloud that enclosed their -existence, and more terrible on the lips of men grew that sound of -fear--_The vengeance of the Holy Steel._ - -“Not many days agone, the work which the Order had sworn to fulfill, -was hastened by a new crime of the tyrant. The last baron of the race of -Albarone, whom the brethren of the steel had resolved to raise to the -Ducal throne, awaited within the walls of a dungeon the coming of the -morrow, which was to bring to his head the woe and the doom, the axe, -the wheel, the scaffold, and the stake. Doomed on a false accusation, -doomed on the testimony of forsworn tools of power, Adrian of Albarone -had laid him down to die, when the Messenger of the Steel appeared, the -rescue was planned, and the morrow morn beheld the prisoner free. - -“The march of fate strode swiftly on. All men named our brother--may God -receive his soul--as the tool and minion of the Duke, while--it gives me -joy to say it--he walked abroad the messenger of the steel.” - -“All hail the spirit of Albertine!” arose the solemn exclamation of the -brethren--“all hail the incarnate spirit of our order!” - -The last scene came hastening on. And the hand of fate pointed to this -lonely Convent of the Mountain Lake, as the place where the wrongs of -years should be avenged, where the Tyrant should meet his secret and -fearful doom. - -“For long years these halls had been peopled by a monkish band, who wore -their sacred robes as a cloak for blasphemies too horrible to name; -while the Dukes, the Tyrant-Dukes of Florence, startled these ancient -walls with the noonday debauch, and midnight orgie, the sunshine murder, -or the torch-light massacre! - -“Here not many days agone, came Albertine the Monk. Still in the -confidence of the Duke--for a specious tale blinded the eyes of the -Tyrant with regard to the part our brother bore in the escape of the -Doomed--still in the confidence of the Duke, the convent doors flew open -at his word. Lord Adrian found a home within these walls, and day by -day, secretly and surely, Albertine made converts of the Abbott and the -Brethren of this Monastery of crime. - -“A few days past, the tools and minions of the Duke, they now became the -sworn Neophytes of the Order of the Holy Steel. It was the purpose of -Albertine, to lure the Duke to the lonely Convent, and while the sound -of his midnight wassail, awoke the echoes of the old walls, the Avenger -would strike the dagger to his heart. The treachery of a peasant of the -lonely valley hastened his schemes to their completion. - -“The last night came. The Duke, flushed with pride, and made reckless by -revenge, rode through the convent gates, companioned by his bravoes, who -held their knives on high, shouting for the blood of Adrian, the -Traitor. - -“And while they prepared the doom of Lord Adrian, in the lonely valley, -the INVISIBLE bestrode the mighty storm of vengeance that darkened over -the night in Florence. The morning dawned on Florence the Free! - -“The morning dawned over the lonely valley, and the blood-stained -Convent. Along the halls, and through the vaults of the ancient fabric -were heaped the corses of the bravoes, while the Brethren of our Order, -ran from hall to hall, from vault to vault, lifting the red steel on -high, as they sought for new victims, while the shout of vengeance rang -pealing from roof to floor, until the air seemed animate with the cry of -death. - -“The Monks of the Steel came hurrying to the convent, two hours after -midnight, but they came too late. - -“The Duke, Albertine and Lord Adrian, all had disappeared. - -“The morning dawned on Florence, unshackled and free, but the Duke, -chosen of God, was gone. - -“Brethren, ye have all heard the fearful story of that night of -terror--the farewell of Albertine, uttered in the hillside cot, his -sudden re-appearance before the eyes of Adrian, when awaiting his doom -in the earth-hidden vault--ye have heard how the bowl of death was given -to the Duke-elect by the monk--the singular disappearance of Albertine -and the Duke when they entered the Chamber of St. Areline--all has -reached your ears, and all is wrapt in mystery--” - -“The dark story of the bowl of death, hath been darkening o’er my soul -since that night of terror and joy,” exclaimed a veiled Monk of the -Order through the folds of his robe as he slowly rose from his seat. “A -light breaks over the chaos of doubt and mystery--a sad and fearful -light. Albertine crazed by revenge, maddened by his thirst for the blood -of the Tyrant Duke, beheld the midnight hour approach, while the -Brothers of the Invisible still delayed their coming. The Duke bade him -perform this work of doom. Albertine must either refuse, or excite the -suspicion of the tyrant. ’Twas a terrible thing--oh, most terrible to -poison the young Lord at the bidding of this changeling Duke, but -Albertine had no alternative. The plans of revenge were not yet -altogether ripe, an hour would warm them into life. He was forced to -slay Adrian to retain the confidence of the Tyrant--sooner would -Albertine make the Fair City itself a desert of whitened bones, than the -Duke, against whom his very soul had sworn vengeance, should live. He -slew Lord Adrian, though his heart wept blood-drops in the act--and then -came his strange and mysterious vengeance on the Tyrant.” - -A low deep murmur ran round the walls of the Tower-room. - -Every heart was impressed with the terrible truth shadowed in the words -of the Brother of the Steel, and in a pause of intense silence, each -heart solemnly mused on the dark story of Albertine, his last crime, and -his last revenge. - -“Adrian sleeps with his murdered father,” again spoke the High Priest. -“Brothers of the Holy Steel, prince and peasant, lord and monk, joined -in the work of vengeance on the Wronger, death to the slayer, ye who won -for the Fair City, peace and freedom, ye who rule her destinies, guide -her fate, your High Priest asks you the solemn question--Who shall wear -the Ducal Coronet of Florence?” - -The bold words were yet ringing on his lips when a shout from the -stairway leading to the tower, rang through the circular room-- - -“Ha--ha--ha! I bear the brand--the flaming brand! See--how it whirls on -high--look how it blazes! Ye sought well and ye sought long, but ye -could not find old Glow-worm and his comrades!” - -The small door of the tower-room was flung suddenly open, and rushing -through the aperture, the slender form of the weak and trembling maniac -stood disclosed before the vision of the secret brothers; the blazing -torch he grasped in his right hand flinging a blood-red light over the -veiled figures of monk and neophyte, while the walls of the room were -illumined with fitful glimpses of the ruddy beams. - -“Ha--ha--ha! The brand, the flaming brand! Ye sought well and ye sought -long--but ye might not find the nest of old Glow-worm and his brothers! -Merry was the fire they built--merry, oh, merry! Cheerily the flame -arose--oh cheerily! And now--ha, ha, stone burns, roof burns, floor -burns, all is fire--and ha, ha, I bear the brand, the flaming brand!” - -And as the maniac swung the burning brand, whirling and hissing round -his head, there came hastening through the narrow doorway a gaily -attired cavalier, bearing the trembling form of a young and lovely woman -in his arms, followed by a stout and bluff soldier, whose face was -stamped with an expression of alarm most strange to see on his -determined features, while he aided the youth and maiden onward in their -flight from the smoke and flame below. - -“Health to the Holy Steel!” cried the cavalier rushing forward; “I bear -a message from the Lords and People of Florence!” - -“Ye will have to be wondrous hasty with your messages, I tell ye!” -exclaimed the bluff soldier. “For d’ye see--all below us is flame and -death--the convent is on fire, by St. Withold!” - -“Brethren of the Holy Steel,” exclaimed the High Priest, as opening the -pacquet he gazed calmly round over the erect forms of the uprisen monks -and neophytes of the order--“who shall wear the ducal crown of -Florence?” - -“The Ladye Annabel!” echoed the Brethren of the Holy Steel, with one -unanimous shout. “Live the Ladye Annabel, Queen of Florence!” - -A moment passes--behold the spectacle! - -A fair and lovely form, clad in robes of fluttering white, stands -trembling in the midst of the group of black-robed men who cluster -round, kneeling on the pavement, as they raise their hands in one -hurried movement, and shout with wild acclaim-- - -“Live the Queen--live the Ladye Annabel, Duchess of Florence!” - -And as the Secret Brethren sank kneeling round, priest and neophyte, all -with heads bent low, before the form of the Ladye Annabel, who gazed -around with a vague and wandering look, there standing erect with a -flushed cheek and a rolling eye, the ancient man of the vault flinging -the brand aloft, whirling the flame round and round again, as he -shouted-- - -“‘Tis merry, ’tis merry, ha, ha! ’Tis merry, ’tis merry--hurrah! Old -Glow-worm is a demon--these all are demons! Ha, ha! Fire above, and fire -below--old Glow-worm is king! On--on--brothers--on--light up the cozy -nooks with the red flame--fire the timbers, heat the old rocks, scare -old Death with the light! Ha--ha--ha! The stone rolled back, and -he--_was buried alive_!” - -“Up, up--an’ ye bear the hearts of men--up and save yourselves and save -the Queen!” shouted Robin the Rough. “The fire has chased us through the -long galleries of the convent, from chamber to chamber, from room to -room, has it followed roaring at our heels! Up, and save the Queen! Her -attendants have escaped or fallen in the flames. Yonder by the window of -the stairway is our only hope! A staircase of massive stone, built -outside the walls of this tower, leads downward to the southern wing of -the convent, yet untouched by flame! Up, and save the Queen!” - -“Listen, Brothers of the Invisible, listen to the last words ye shall -ever hear from your High Priest. Our oath is fulfilled, the Tyrant is -dead, Florence is free! And here in this lofty tower, environed by -flame, with the roaring of the fire in our ears, and the lurid smoke -rolling up to the heavens, with flame and death all round, here in this -dark and blood-stained House of St. Benedict, do I, your High Priest and -Sire, dissolve the Order of the Monks of the Holy Steel!” - -“When Wrong arises, then shall ye again spring into life, when Murder -walks abroad in the sunshine, laughing in the face of God, then shall -His ministers again raise the Invisible steel! Till then I dissolve your -band, give back your oath.” - -“Prince and peasant, lord and monk--off with your sacred garments, off -with the vestments in which ye have been robed as the avengers of God, -off with hood and cowl--stand forth as ye are and raise the shout--Live -the Ladye Annabel. Live the Queen!” - -“Live the Ladye Annabel--” the shout rang pealing to the -tower-roof--“Live the Queen!” - -It was like magic! - -Down fell hood and cowl, down fell sable vestments and midnight robes, -and there disclosed in the light of the flaming brand, stood the prince -in his jewelled robes, the knight in the surcoat of glittering velvet, -the lord in his gay doublet, the merchant in his silken tunic, the -peasant in coat of serge, the priest arrayed in sacerdotal white, -glittering with the sacred insignia of gold, the scholar in his flowing -gown of sable, all stood there, rising stately erect in the light, proud -representatives of their various classes, types of the GOTHIC MAN,[9] -however named, or styled, all joined in the holiest cause on earth, the -freedom of their native land, lifting up their hands and voices in one -wild burst of enthusiasm, as they hailed the Ladye Annabel, Queen of -Florence, chosen by the people, chosen by the lords, chosen by the -priests, chosen by God! - -A strange smile of delight stole over the lovely face of the Ladye -Annabel, as standing calm and erect, her blue eyes was fixed on the -vacant air, with the gaze of one entranced by some vision of far-off -bliss. - -“We shall meet again,--” she said and smiled--“Oh joy, we shall meet -again!” - -“Buried alive--ho, ho!” shrieked the ancient man, in a low chaunting -voice--“Ha--ha! The stone rolls back--I have the brand, and then--ho, -ho, hurrah! _Buried alive!_” - - - - -CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH. - -THE BURIED ALIVE. - - - THE SPIRIT OF THE CHRONICLE, LEADING THE WAY THROUGH THE CHAMBERS - OF SLEEP, AND TRANCE, AND DEATH, SOLVES THE MYSTERIE OF THE LIFE OF - ADRIAN DI ALBARONE. - -Afar through the gloom and twilight that hangs between the visible and -the unreal world, we behold the Spirit of the Chronicle, leading us -onward to a dim and shadowy land peopled by Dreams and thronged with -Thoughts, robed in forms of light or clad in shapes of doom. - -It is the land of Death--the land of the Grave. - -The awful region, where the soul, parted from its house of clay, looks -over the wide expanse of shadow, and beholds every thought that ever -visited its mortal form, spring up into tangible being and life, now -gladdening its eternal vision with images of loveliness and beauty, and -again affrighting the pale Spirit with shapes of ghastliness and woe. - -Thus, as his dread Record draws near its close, thus speaks the -Chronicler of the Ancient MSS.---- - -DEATH--mighty and irresistible, look down upon the cold corse, and tell -us, when does thy hand first unveil the Eternal to the eye of the -Soul.-- - -LIFE--thou mockery and blasphemy, gaze upon the form of the Mortal -Thing, and give us to know, when does thy power cease, when does thy -victim pass from thy grasp? - -Ye each dispute the possession of the Soul, upon a shadowy battle-field, -and now the victory sways to the skeleton, and now to the thing of -Flesh. Men know this battle-field by various names, they call it SLEEP, -they call it TRANCE, they call it DEATH. - -First the body sleeps, then it is entranced, then it dies. First the -Soul gazes with a dim eye upon the Eternal World, then its vision is -enwrapt and absorbed, and at last, as the clay dies, it is all Spirit, -and Thought, and Dream. - -Come with us, reader, with hushed breath and a solemn footstep come with -us, while we tread the halls of Old Death, tracing the Soul through the -chambers of Sleep and Trance, into the full light of the AWFUL UNKNOWN! - - * * * * * - -Adrian Di Albarone drank the Bowl, and drained it to the dregs, and as -he drank, the lovely face of Annabel swam round him in wild confusion, -mingling with the dark countenance of Albertine, and the bronzed visage -of the Sworder, while his heart seemed turning to fire, and his brain to -molten lead. - -He drained the bowl to the dregs, and then fell prostrate over the -coffin, and then came a cold and unconscious pause, when his heart, and -his brain, were wrapt in forgetfulness, covering his soul like a thick -mist, or the deep darkness of midnight. - -Awaking slowly from this oblivion of soul, he beheld looking him calmly, -yet fixedly in the face, the countenance of his father, Lord Julian of -Albarone, pale as death, and livid with the hues of corruption yet -lighted by the deep glance of those shadowy eyes, that seemed to burn in -their very sockets, like meteors seen through the dimness of the -day-break mist. - -As this face so wild, so lofty and so ghastly in its supernatural -expression, faded slowly away from the vision of Adrian, his soul became -the prisoner of mighty Dreams, the Spirits of the Grave, who called up -before his eye, this dark and startling Mysterie. - - THE MYSTERIE OF LIFE. - -He stood in the court-yard of an ancient castle, with the frown of the -old walls glooming over his head, while the blaze of the festal lights -thrown from the lofty windows gave a ruddy light to the scene. - -Gladsome strains of music, the light-hearted laugh of the reveller, the -gay carol of the minstrel came echoing to his ear. - -He looked around the courtyard, and beheld ranged under the shadow of -the ancient wall the chariots of the great and proud, extending in long -and brilliant array, as far as eye could see, each chariot with its -panels blazing with heraldic emblazonings boasting its gallant -attendance of four noble steeds, decorated with gay housings and waving -plumes, red, azure and snow-white in hue, while numerous servitors, -attired in liveries of every color and gaudy device, ran to and fro, -their shouts of boisterous merriment, mingling with the voices of their -Lords, joining in the glee song of the banquet hall. - -Ascending a massive stairway, with snow-white marble steps, and rare -paintings adorning the wall, Adrian made his way through the crowds of -feasters, passing to and fro, through the stream of servitors bearing -dainty viands to the revellers above, and in a single moment stood -within the glare and glitter of the Festival Hall. - -It was in sooth, a grand and magnificent scene. - -The pillars of a lofty hall swept away from the spot where he stood, in -grand perspective, each lofty column bearing its burden of wild flowers, -quaintly wreathed around sculptured frieze and capital, hanging in long -festoons to the floor, or borne to and fro by the summer breeze. - -The glare of ten thousand lamps, arranged amid the intricate ornaments -of the ceiling, hung along the towering columns or pendant in the night -air, gave a dazzling light to the scene. - -The dancers went merrily over the bounding floor, each eye gleaming with -revelry, each cheek glowing with the merriment of the hour, and the -Spirit of the Dance giving life to every step, animation to every motion -of the revellers. - -Placed on the balcony above his head, the band of minstrels filled the -air with music; pillar and column, ceiling-arch and obscure nook, gave -the strains with redoubled echoes, until the air seemed animated with -melody, and instinct with the life of joy. - -Floating on the waves of sound, the forms of dame and damsel, lord and -cavalier, seemed swimming in the atmosphere, their eyes flashing light, -their hands gaily upraised, their voices mingling in a festal song, as -they undulated to and fro, now circling here, now grouping there, now -clustering in a crowd, and again darting away over the floor, like a -flock of frightened birds scared by the swoop of the falcon. - -Adrian gazed over the scene, until his eye grew sick with loveliness, -his ears deafened by the sound of mirth, revelry and music, he gazed -around and marked the forms of beauty swaying in the dance, here the -blooming form of mature womanhood, bounding amid the dancers, there the -blushing cheek of girlhood, receiving the warm blaze of the festal -lights o’er the velvet skin, here soft lips and azure eyes, mingling -their messages of love, there delicate hands pressed thrillingly -together, on every side the form of a queenly dame revealed in the -light, or the soft bosom of a princely damsel, heaving from the folds of -her vestment--on all sides beauty and grace, music and motion, -commingling their fascinations, while the heart filled with melody, and -the pulse throbbed with joy. - -And as Adrian looked, with a wild thrill of delight, he beheld one -lovely form, standing apart from the dancers, while her face of dreamy -beauty was gazing sadly over the scene, the deep blue eye gleaming with -thought, and the swelling cheek paled by melancholy, as the strains of -festival music came to her ear. - -It was the Ladye Annabel! - -With a wild cry of delight, Adrian sprang forward, and as he sprang, his -bride turned, beheld his face, and came swimming into his arms. - -Another moment and they joined the throng of dancers speeding gayly over -the floor, their hands interlocked while their glances mingled, and the -soft whispers of each voice, spoke of the dear memories of the olden -time. - -It was when the dance swelled gayest, when the minstrels gave forth -their most joyous notes, when all around was life and music and the -waters of joy came bubbling to the brim of every heart, that a strange -voice, deep, and whispering in its tones, broke over the very heart of -Adrian. - -“_Man, thou art full of joy, and around thee every cheek glows with -health, every eye sparkles with life. Behold, I show thee the Mysterie -of Life and Death! Thou art doomed to return to this Festal Hall, one -hundred years from this night, when thou shalt behold the Festal Scene, -which death will open to thy gaze!_” - -And at the very word, Adrian lost his bride in the throng of dancers, -and all grew dark as midnight. - -The music and the dancers, the forms and beauty and the pillared hall, -all, all were gone, and a strange consciousness was impressed upon the -brain of Adrian, that one hundred years from the festal night had passed -away, and that he had been wrapt in slumber for a long and dreary -century of time. - - THE MYSTERIE OF DEATH. - -He stood in the court-yard of the ancient castle yet again. - -A broad blaze of light poured from the windows of the festal hall, while -the peals of strange and unknown music broke murmuringly on the air. - -Adrian gazed around the court-yard, with a feeling of awe, gathering -heavy and dark around his heart. - -There was the castle yard, the same as in the olden time, yet not -altogether the same. - -Gleams of moonlight stole through the chinks in the tottering walls of -the court-yard, wild vines threw their long branches from among the -age-worn stones, and the owl, like a thing of evil omen disturbed the -air with its sullen murmur. - -Gazing along the court-yard, Adrian beheld a strange and ghastly -spectacle. - -Beneath the shadow of the dark gray walls, along the very space occupied -by the array of chariots, one hundred years before, there extended a -long line of death-cars, hearse succeeding hearse, all draped in folds -of black, with four dark steeds, heavy with hangings of dark velvet, -attached to each chariot of the grave, while the coachman’s seat was -tenanted by a grisly skeleton, attired in the gay livery of the noble -lord whom he served in life. - -With maddened steps, Adrian hastened along the whole line of hearses, he -beheld each death-car, with its four black steeds, their heads decorated -with sable plumes, their bodies concealed by folds of black velvet, he -beheld the skeleton driver seated on every hearse. - -He saw the paraphernalia of death and the grave, and as the horror grew -darker at his heart, he shouted aloud, asking in tones of wild -amazement, the cause of this fearful panorama of woe and gloom. - -There came no answer to his shout. - -All was silent, save the murmur of the owl and the peals of strange -music floating from the windows of the Festal Hall. - -“What means this fearful scene?” whispered Adrian, as he seized the -skeleton servitor of a gloomy hearse by the arm--“What means the long -array of death cars?” - -The skeleton extended his fleshless jaws, in a hideous grin, and with -his skeleton hand, brushed the dust of the grave from his gay doublet of -blue and silver, and arranged the tasteful knot of his silken sash. - -Still no voice came from his bared teeth, no answer came from his -fleshless visage. - -“Fiend of hell,” shouted Adrian, “this sight will drive me mad.” - -“Nay, nay, good youth,” exclaimed a soft and whispered voice at his very -shoulder. “Be not alarmed, ’tis but a festal scene. One hundred years -from this night we all thronged yonder dancing hall, ’tis our pleasure, -or mayhap our doom to return to the scene of our former gaiety. I was -master of ceremonies an hundred years ago, I am master of ceremonies, -ha, ha, yet once again. Will it please ye to choose a partner?” - -With a feeling of involuntary horror, Adrian turned and beheld a Figure, -clad in a gay robe of purple, faced with snow-white ermine, holding the -rod of office in his hand, while a group of rainbow-hued plumes, hung -drooping over his brow. - -Adrian dashed the plumes aside, he beheld, oh sight of mockery, the -fleshless skull, the hollow eye sockets, the cavity of the nose, the -grinning teeth, and the hanging jaw, while the hand grasping the wand of -office, was a grisly skeleton hand. - -He turned from the bowing skeleton, and was rushing away with horror, -when a new wonder fixed his attention. - -The master of ceremonies waved his wand, and each skeleton driver leaped -from his hearse. - -Another signal and the long line of skeletons, each attired in gay and -contrasted livery, extended their skeleton hands, and lifting the pall -on high disclosed the gloomy burden of each death car, the coffin draped -in black, with the heraldic plate of gold, affixed to each coffin lid. - -A third wave of the wand from the master of ceremonies, and the skeleton -drivers, unscrewed each coffin lid, and Adrian beheld the occupant of -every tenement of death, slowly rise from their last resting place, -gazing beneath the shadow of the uplifted funeral pall, around upon the -court-yard. - -As they gazed, Adrian beheld each fleshless skull, wearing the horrible -grimace of death, looking forth from beneath their gaudy head-gear, the -plumed cap, or the jeweled coronet, while their skeleton hands, arranged -the folds of their attire, brushing the coffin dust from the gay robe, -or fixing the tarnished ruffle around the neck with a yet more dainty -grace, while the skeleton drivers, slowly let down the steps of each -hearse fashioned in its sable side. The last signal was given by the -master of ceremonies. - -And with a low bow, each skeleton servitor extended his hand, to receive -his fair lord or ladye, his fair young mistress or his gallant young -master, as arising from their coffin, they placed their feet on the -steps of the hearse, and slowly descended into the court-yard of the -ancient castle. - -“Great God, they are thronging around me,” shouted Adrian, “skeleton -after skeleton, clad in the gay costume of life, descend from the -funeral hearse wending in one ghastly throng toward the hall door, on -their way to the festal scene. Oh, ghastly mockery! here are the forms -of those who died when young, and the trembling skeletons of those whom -death summoned when bending with the weight of years. Here are the -skeletons of warrior and courtier, knight and minstrel. All wear -glittering costumes, all mimic the actions of life. Cavalier takes the -hand of Damosel, and Lord supports the form of Ladye, while the -fleshless jaws, extend and grimace but speak no word. They utter a low -moaning sound like the deaf mute when he essays to speak. ’Tis horrible, -most horrible, this ghastly array of mockery, and hark--strange peals of -music, are floating from yon lofty windows of the banquet hall!” - -And as he spoke, the spectral train disappeared within the shadow of -the hall door, and he was left alone with the long line of hearses and -the skeleton servitors. - -“So please ye, gentle sir, wilt thou not trip a measure in the joyous -dance?” spoke a voice at his shoulder, “Lo! the peals of merry music, -lo! the hum of the dancers feet, moving merrily over the floor. Wilt -please thee to take my arm?” - -Adrian turned and beheld the bowing Skeleton-Master of Ceremonies. - -“I’ll e’en secure thee a fair partner!” whispered the skeleton as he led -Adrian through the hall door and along the massive stairway. “Look, good -youth, the paintings are somewhat tarnished, very little tarnished since -we beheld them last, and, ha, ha, well, well, such things will come to -pass, the marble steps of the staircase are cracked by the footstep of -time. This way, this way, my good youth. Lo! we are in the festal hall!” - -With a gaze of horror, Adrian beheld the hall, whose floor he had -trodden some hundred years agone. He beheld the lofty pillars, the -magnificent arch, the balcony for the minstrels, all illumined by the -glare of pendent lamps, all, all the same, yet still all sadly and -fearfully changed. - -The lofty columns were decorated with evergreens, but flowers gathered -by the hand of beauty from the wild wood glade no more adorned capital -and frieze. - -The ivy, green companion of old time, clomb round the towering pillars, -and swept its canopy of leaves along the arching ceiling, while the -night-wind rustling through the worm-eaten tapestries agitated the long -tendrils of the trailing vine with a gentle yet solemn motion. - -“Lo! the dancers--ha, ha, the dancers!” - -Circling and whirling, grouping and clustering, the skeleton-band went -swaying over the floor, their gay dresses fluttering in the light, while -the ruddy lamp-beams fell quivering over each bared brow, tinting the -hollow sockets with a crimson glow, and giving a more ghastly grimace to -the array of whitened teeth. - -“Lo! the minstrels--a skeleton-band, whose fleshless skulls appear above -the lattice-work of yon balcony. Merry music they make--clank, clank, -clank! They beat the hollow skull with the cross-bone--clank, clank, -clank! Each skeleton minstrel waves on high a human bone, striking it on -the hollow skull--clank, clank. Clank, clank. Clank, clank, clank!” - -And as the grinning skeleton, master of ceremonies, pointed above to the -spectral minstrels, Adrian listened to the music that echoed round the -hall. - -A wild clanking sound assailed his ears, with a hollow mockery of music, -while a deep, booming, rolling sound like the echo of a distant -battle-drum broke on the air, maddening the skeleton-dancers with its -weird melody. - -The revel swelled fiercer, and the mirth grew louder, awaking the echoes -of the ancient hall with one deafening murmur. - -“Lo! the dancers divide--behold the spectacle! On yonder side extend the -lords and cavaliers, on this the dames and damozels. They prepare for a -merry dance--will it please thee chose a partner?” - -And as the skeleton spoke, he pointed to the form of a maiden, clad in -snow-white robes, who with her face turned from Adrian, seemed absorbed -in watching the motions of the dancers. Adrian gazed upon this maidenly -form with a beating heart, and advanced to her side. - -“Behold thy partner!” cried the master of ceremonies. - -The maiden turned her face to Adrian, and he stood spell-bound to the -spot with sudden horror. - -Looking from beneath a dropping plume, snow-white in hue, a skull stared -him in the face, with the orbless sockets, the cavity of the nose, and -the grinning teeth turned to glowing red by the light of the pendent -lamps. - -Adrian stood spell-bound but the form advanced, flinging her skeleton -hands on high-- - -“Adrian, Adrian,” whispered a soft woman’s voice issuing from the -fleshless skull; “Joy to me now, for I behold thee once again!” - -“I know thee not” shrieked Adrian with a voice of fear--“I know thee -not, thou thing of death! Wherefore whisper my name with the voice of -her whom this heart loved a hundred years ago, and will love forever? -Off--off--thou mockery, nor clutch thy skeleton arms around my neck, nor -gather me in thy foul embrace!” - -“And thou lovest me not!” spoke the sad and complaining voice of the -skeleton--“Adrian, Adrian, gaze upon me, I am thine own, thine now and -thine forever!” - -“And this,” whispered Adrian, as the fearful consciousness gradually -stole over his soul--“And this is my love--my Annabel! Death, oh ghastly -and invisible Death, couldst thou not spare even--her!” - -“Advance dames and damosels!” rung out the words of the master of -ceremonies. - -And at the word, the long line of skeleton-dames and damosels, arrayed -in rarest silks, blazing with jewels and glittering with ornaments of -gold, came swaying quickly forward, extending their skeleton hands to -their partners, who half advanced from the opposite side of the hall, -and then they all swept back to their places, with one sudden movement -rattling their skeleton fingers with a gesture of boundless joy, as they -stood beneath the glare of the dazzling lights. - -“Advance lords and cavaliers!” - -Quickly and with lightsome steps the skeletons arrayed in costly robe -and glittering doublet advanced to the sound of the unearthly music, and -gaining the centre of the hall, sprang nimbly in the air, performing -the evolutions of the dance with the celerity of lightning, and having -greeted their fair partners again retired to the opposite side of the -hall, uttering a low and moaning sound of laughter as they regained -their places. - -“Minstrels strike up a merrier peal! Clank, clank. Clank, clank. Clank, -clank--clank!--Merrier, merrier--louder, louder--let the old roof echo -with your peals of melody! Now gentles advance, seize your fair partners -and whirl them in the dance!” - -With one wild bound the skeletons sprang forward from opposite sides of -the hall, pairing off, two by two, lord and ladye, cavalier and damosel, -and in a moment the whole array of revellers swept circling round the -hall, moving forward to a merry measure, clanking their skeleton hands -on high and uttering low peals of laughter as they whirled around the -bounding floor. - -Adrian gazed upon the scene in wild amazement, while the skeleton arms -of _her he loved_, gathered closer round his neck, and as he gazed he -became inspired with the wild excitement of the scene, he clapped his -hands on high, he joined in the low muttered laughter, he mingled in the -mad whirl of the spectral dance. - -Faster and faster, whirling two by two, their fleshless skulls turned to -glowing red by the glare of a thousand lights, their hands of bone -clanking wildly above their heads, while the low moaning chorus of -unreal laughter echoed around the hall, faster and faster circled the -skeleton dancers, gay doublets glittering in the lamp-beams, robes of -silk flung wavingly to the breeze. - -On and on with the speed of wind they swept, these merry denizens of the -grave, pacing their march of mockery, their dance of woe, with a ghastly -mimicry of life, reality and joy. - -And as Adrian flung his arms around the skeleton-form of his bride, -gathering her to his bosom, while their voices joined in the moaning -chaunt of unreal laughter, the voice which he had heard an hundred years -before, again came whispering to his ear. - -“Behold the Mysterie of Life and Death! To-day the children of men live -and love, hate and destroy. Where are their lives, their loves, their -hatreds, and their wars, in an hundred years? Behold--ha, ha, ha! -_Behold the Mysterie of their life and their death!_” - - - - -CHAPTER THE TWELFTH. - -THE REAL MORE TERRIBLE THAN THE UNREAL. - - -All was dark. Not a ray of light, not even the gleaming of a distant -star, but deep and utter darkness. - -Adrian awoke from his dream. Did he awake to another dream, or to a -reality yet more terrible? - -He lay prostrate, and he felt his limbs confined as though they were -bound with cords. He extended his hand, and it touched a smooth panel of -wood, extending along his right side. A strange horror, to which the -horrors of his late dream were joy and peace, gathered like a deadening -weight around his heart. He threw forth his left hand, and felt a like -panel of smooth wood extending along his other side. Raising himself -slowly from his prostrate position, with every nerve and fibre of his -frame stiffened and cramped by his hard resting place, he passed his -quivering hands along the panels of wood, and with that insupportable -horror deadening over his heart, he felt and examined the shape of -his--COFFIN. - -Bowing his head between his hands, the wretched man essayed to weep, but -the fountain of his tears was exhausted. - -He could not weep. - -And then, as with trembling hands he examined his emaciated face, with -the cheek-bones pressing hard against the parched skin, he beheld rising -before his soul, one ghastly idea, which would pale the cheek of the -bravest man that ever went to battle, or chill with horror and despair, -the heart of the holiest Priest that ever offered prayers to God, an -idea to which all other horrors were as nothing, all terrors, all fears, -all deaths trifling and insignificant. - -And the nameless thought, his husky voice gave to the air in a hollow -whisper. - -“BURIED-ALIVE!” - -And a hollow echo returned the word “_alive, alive!_” - -“It comes back to my soul,” he slowly murmured, “the scene in the -chamber of the convent--the Monk--oh, curses on the traitor--the potion, -all, all come back to me! Buried Alive! Devil in human shape--he did not -drug the bowl with death, but with--sleep! This, this is the revenge of -the Duke, and, and Albertine was the tool of the triple murderer! Buried -Alive!” - -He tried to arise from the coffin, but for a long time his efforts were -in vain. - -His frame was stiffened in every sinew, and his limbs were benumbed by -his long repose. - -At last he stood erect upon the floor of stone, and extending his hands, -grasped the massive walls. - -“There is yet one hope,” he murmured, “there may be some outlet from the -funeral vault!” - -With slow and leaden footsteps he passed along the wall, measuring its -length. It was five paces long. The stones were all solid, massive, and -firm. His upraised hand touched the ceiling, as it extended some three -inches higher than his head. - -Clutching the massive stones, he paced along the other walls or sides of -the room, with weary and difficult footsteps, and at last traversed the -three sides, and leaning against the wall, he endeavored to impress his -wandering mind with some definite idea of the shape and dimensions of -the vault. - -“I stand in a small room, with floor and walls of massive stone,” he -slowly muttered, “it is square in shape, and each side of the cell is -five paces in length, and somewhat more than the stature of a man in -height. The stones are solid, and to all appearance are some three feet -thick. There is no outlet, no passage from the vault. I am -indeed--Buried, and buried alive!” - -He passed with difficult steps along the fourth wall of the vault, -determined to repose his shattered frame awhile, even though his resting -place was his coffin. In a moment measuring three paces, he arrived at -the spot where he supposed he had left the coffin. Extending his foot to -and fro, in search of his late tenement, he was struck with a new -horror: - -“It is gone--the coffin is gone!” - -Words cannot picture the utter horror with which this was spoken. - -All the despair that an Angel of God might feel, when toppled from the -battlements of Heaven into the infernal abyss, then visited the breast -of Adrian Di Albarone. - -“It is a mere phantasy,” he exclaimed, “I have chanced upon the wrong -side of the room.” - -Again the sides of the vault were paced, and yet the coffin was not -within his reach. - -It was gone from its position near the wall, and his physical strength -did not suffice to advance toward the centre of the room. - -What invisible hand was it, that removed the Coffin? - -As the question was asked by the heart of the wretched man, it found its -answer in one fearful doubt. - -“And am I, in truth, within the bounds of that fearful place, which wild -Poets have fancied, and dark-robed Monks have preached? Am I in sooth -lost, and lost forever? Is death a dream? or an eternal succession of -realities that seem but dreams--horrors too fearful for even the damned -to believe? And this, this is--hell! I could bear the tortures of the -eternal fire, the lash of the fiends I might defy, the lightnings of -wrath would inspire with me with some portion of the Awful Spirit who -winged their bolts of vengeance--but this narrow cell, this eternal -confinement in a place visited only by Dreams, while hunger tortures and -thirst burns, hope animates, and despair holds but half the human -heart--this, this is too horrible. God of vengeance, give me, oh give, -the punishment of the undying worm, the torture of the eternal frame, -but spare, oh spare me--_this_!” - -He fell on his knees, and kissed the cold floor as he bent his forehead -against his clenched hands, making the narrow cell all alive with his -shriek-- - -“Spare; oh spare me--_this_!” - -As he bowed low on the floor, a singular sound--most singular in such a -place--met his ear. It was but a low sound, yet it was a fearful one. - -_He heard the deep breathing of a living creature._ - -It might be the echo of his own broken gasps, the thought flashed over -the mind of Adrian, and for a moment he held his breath, and listened -with all his soul absorbed in the result. Again the deep breathing of a -human creature met his ear-- - -“Is it man or devil?” thus ran the thoughts of Adrian--“Mayhap he may -give me water to quench my thirst, or mayhap he will--ha, ha,--take my -accursed life. Could I but speak--for my voice does nought but -murmur--I’d even ask him to plunge his poignard in my heart.” - -A whizzing sound disturbed the air, and at the very instant the blow of -a sword descended on the left arm of Adrian Di Albarone, while a heavy -body fell to the floor, within two paces of the spot where he knelt. - -“The blood flows from the wound,” the glad thought darted over the mind -of the Buried-Alive, “Would I had strength to tear the doublet-sleeve -from the arm, then I might drink my own blood. Yet hold--the blood oozes -through the gash in the sleeve, and, and Great * * *! I may drink my own -blood!” - -He raised the wounded arm to his mouth and greedily drank the blood. - -In a moment he felt the influence of the draught. - -His veins seemed fired with new life, his brain became for the moment -calm and clear, his heart regained its vigor, and gifted with temporary -strength he arose on his feet, grasping the sword of the unknown in his -good right hand. - -Another moment passed, and with his right hand he wound a bandage of -linen, torn from his bosom, around the wounded arm, securing it by a -knot tied with the teeth and hand. - -Meanwhile he heard the sound of panting breath, not two paces distant -from the spot where he stood, and as he listened a deep-muttered groan -broke on his ear. - -Calling all his powers of mental and physical vigor to his aid he spoke -in a faint yet determined voice-- - -“Who art thou?” he exclaimed. - -“Thy murderer!” was the gasping response. - -“How long hast thou been in this place of death?” - -“Long--enough--to starve! Hell and devils! I burn--thirst--starve!” - -“What wouldst thou have?” - -“Bread, bread! Water--I’d sell my soul for water!” - -“Wherefore didst thou strike me?” - -“I thought ye a spirit--and--and--I wanted to test your quality. Kill -me, an’ thou art a man of flesh and blood--kill me, kill me!” - -“Thy voice is strange and hollow, yet methinks I remember your tones. -Thy name is--Balvardo!” - -“‘Twas I that swore thy life away, ’twas I that brought thee to these -vaults to bury thy corse beneath the earth--kill me, kill me!” - -“Is there no opening to this vault?” - -“A secret door--a passage--the spring, that opens on the other side--the -spring that shuts--on this side. I--ha, ha, may hell seize my soul, I -buried myself alive--and kill me!” - -Adrian shuddered--and grew cold. He could hear the gasping of the poor -wretch as he struggled for breath, he could hear the groans of his -unseen assassin; well he knew that long absence from nourishment from -food alone could lay the sworder helpless as an infant along the floor. - -And as his mind struggled with the mighty horrors that gathered round -him, his attention was arrested by a singular circumstance. - -While the hushed and whispered conversation had been in progress between -Adrian and Balvardo, the room had been gradually growing warmer and -warmer, and at last the walls became heated, the ceiling emitting a -warmth almost insupportable, while the confined air of the cell grew -like the atmosphere of a furnace. - -“What new horror is this!” faltered Adrian. “Tell me, how hast thou -existed thus long in this vault of death, without air?” - -“A well,” gasped the wretch, “centre of the stone-room--current of air -from under the earth.” - -Impressed by these incoherent words, Adrian advanced slowly along the -floor, avoiding the prostrate body, and in a moment stood near the -centre of the room. - -He extended his foot--it touched a substance that gave back a slight -sound; it was his coffin. - -Another extension of his foot, and a whizzing sound assailed his ears, -ploughing the air far, far below his feet, then the rebound of wood -splinttered to pieces on a pointed rock came welling up from -earth-hidden depths and echoed around the room. - -He listened with hushed breath for a long and weary moment. - -The sound of a pebble falling in water, far, far below, came dimly and -faintly to his ear, like the pattering of the water-drop upon the -age-worn rock. - -“Ha! A well, deep as the fathomless abyss, sinks down from the centre of -the room. Let me measure its width--two good paces. The coffin has -whirled down into its bottomless depths--I hear the splintered pieces -falling in the water far, far below. A slight current of air issues from -the well--and the heat of this vault of death grows fiercer every -moment--” - -“Kill me, and then thank God thou hast strength left to hurl thee down -the dark abyss---- I burn, oh, fiend of hell, with thirst and flame I -burn!” - -Adrian sate him down on the edge of the well, with his feet dangling in -the abyss, and gave his very soul to one long and painful effort of -thought. - -Death clutched him with a thousand arms, death was in the heated air, -death came gibbering and laughing in the form of famine, and from the -very depths of the abyss the doomed lord could fancy he beheld the form -of the Skeleton-God, with arms outstretched to grasp his victim as he -fell. - -There was no hope. - -He must die. He must die afar from the voice of friend, afar from the -sight of earth, or the vision of the blue sky, he must die by the slow -gnawings of famine, the gradual withering of fire, or by one sudden -plunge into the abyss below. - -He sate him down to die--his arms were folded, and yet with an eager -gesture he held his face over the darkness of the abyss in the nervous -effort to inhale each breath of air. - -He strove to compose his mind to prayer, but the gasping of the wretch -lying near his side diverted his attention from thoughts of God and the -better world. - -“Why didst thou hate me?” he slowly asked. - -“I was afraid--thou--wouldst--live to do me wrong. Thou art revenged--I -die by inches!” - -The wretch groaned in very agony, and Adrian could hear his fingers -clutching convulsively along the floor of stone. - -“My God, my God,” cried the doomed lord, as his very soul was wrung by -the woe of the forsaken wretch; “would I had one cup of water to cool -his burning tongue--” - -“Ha--ha--ha! He mocks me with the name of water! Tell me, thou fiend, is -_he_ not revenged?” - -“The heat grows fiercer--the air of this vault is turning to fire! He -gasps for breath. Man give me thy hand. Let me drag thee near the -well--the freshening air may cool the fire in thy heart and veins.” - -And extending his hands through the darkness, with his body inclined to -a level with the pavement, he sought the form of the famine stricken -sworder. - -He grasped the hands of the wretch; the fingers were thin and wasted, -resembling the bones of a skeleton rather than the hands of a living -man. - -Slowly and with a careful motion Adrian dragged the dying man along the -pavement, he laid his head on his knee, as he sat on the verge of the -well, and passed his hand over the massive brow of his assassin. - -He shuddered in the very act. Clear and distinct, the harsh outline of -the withered brow, pressed against his hand, and he could feel the eye -sunken far in its socket, and the cheeks hollowed by the touch of -famine. It was more like a skull than the face of a living man. - -“I feel the fresh air on my brow,” gasped Balvardo; “my feet are -withering with heat, and mine hands burn! Oh fiend of hell--I see a -fountain, a cool and showery fountain--the clear waters are streaming -over pebbled stones, and the green moss is wet with the sparkling drops. -Hist! I will crawl to the fountain side, I will bury my face in the -waters--ha, ha, ha, I will drink, I will drink! Fiend, fiend--curses on -thee, thou hast changed the waters to _blood_!” - -He uttered a wild yell of horror, and the vault of the dead gave back -the echo--“Blood, blood!” while Adrian passed his hands over the -beetle-brow of the murderer, and parting the matted hair aside, held the -famine-eaten face in the full current of the subterranean air. - -All was dark as chaos ere the fiat of God spoke worlds into being, yet -here was a spectacle that the angels of His throne, veiling their awful -faces before the Presence, might gaze upon even through the darkness, -and gaze with tears of joy. Here was the assassin, the sworder, the -false-witness, and the sworn foe, resting in the arms of the man whose -body his oath had given to the doomsman and the wheel; whose footsteps -he had tracked like the bloodhound snuffing the footprints of his -victim, fierce, unrelenting, and hungering after blood; here was the -wretch who had borne him to this vault, placed his body in the house of -death, consigned him to the famine and the fire, the nameless horror and -the agony that the cheek grows livid to name; here was the man who had -buried him alive, and yet he held him in his arms, fanned his withered -face, and brought the fresh air to his parched lips and burning brow. - -It was as the sworder had gaspingly uttered a fierce revenge, and yet -such vengeance as the Man of the Cross, the God shrined in flesh, would -have taken on his most blood-thirsty foe. - -The end drew nigh. - -The moments, those moments of horror, which seemed lengthened to years, -dragged on with steps of lead, and the room grew like a furnace, the -walls gave forth an intolerable heat. The ceiling rapidly became a -canopy of invisible fire, as the air itself changed to unseen fire, -began to burn into the flesh of Adrian, as the wretch in his arms -writhed and writhed in helpless agony. - -“Water--water--water!” gasped the Sworder. - -A thought flashed over the mind of Adrian. - -“There may be water in this well--a fountain may spring bubbling from -its depths, while we perish on the brink! The way is deep and dark--a -single misplaced grasp or foothold, and my body goes whirling to the -abyss below; yet I am urged on by a power I cannot name--I will descend -the well!” - -A moment and the head of Balvardo lay on the pavement of the stone-room, -while the body of Adrian hung swinging in the abyss, as, with his hands -grasping the projecting stones, he began that fearful descent. - -“I go to bring thee water!” he shouted in the ear of the famished -wretch--“I go to bring thee water for thy burning tongue and brow.” - -“Then, take this--_this_--” was the gasping response, and Adrian felt a -substance of metal pressed against his brow by an extended hand; “‘twill -hold the--the water, or, ha, ha,--the blood!” - -Hanging over the abyss by the grasp of one trembling hand, Adrian seized -the metal substance with the other. - -It was a goblet, a goblet of gold, embossed with strangely shapen -flowers, and heraldic insignia, and as Adrian placed the vessel within -the confines of his doublet, a shudder of horror caused his frame to -quiver over the unknown void. - -It was the goblet of the Red Chamber. - -First grasping a pointed stone with one hand, then inserting his foot in -a crevice of the masonry, then clutching another stone with the other -hand, while his remaining foot rested in another crevice, he slowly -began the fearful descent of the well. - -“This then is the foul den of torture, built by the tyrants of Florence, -long, long ago!” The thought crossed his brain. “The well hath been -fashioned by the tools of the mason, yet the damp has worn deep hollows -between the rugged stones. Hark!” he uttered the involuntary -exclamation, “a stone has fallen from my grasp--I hear no sound--none, -none! The abyss may be without bottom or depth. Hist! a hollow murmur -breaks the silence of the air, far, far, below--the stone has sounded -the depth of the well!” - -“Water, water--men or devils, give me water!” the shrieking tones of the -wretch in the stone-room came faintly to his ear. “Ha, ha! Thanks, -thanks--they hand me a cup, a cup of good, clear water, and I drink--oh, -horror, horror,--it turns to blood!” - -With every nerve quivering, his hand trembling as he grasped the -stones, his foot shaking with a nervous tremor as it sought the crevice -which might give it momentary support, Adrian continued his terrible -descent, until some twenty yards of the subterranean well rose above his -head, while the low moans, the piercing shrieks, and the hollow laughter -of the Sworder came fainter, and yet more faint to his ear. - -Extending his foot in search of a crevice, he was astonished to find it -resting on a solid rock, that hung jutting over the abyss, at a point -where the well, diverging from its perpendicular course, made a slight -inclination to the opposite side. - -Grasping the rugged stones with the eager clutch of his trembling hands, -Adrian hung swinging over the abyss, as with extended feet, he examined -the formation of the well at this particular point, and tested the -extent of the jutting rock. - -He looked over his shoulder, and a wild thrill of surprise ran over his -frame. - -“Mine eyes burn with famine,” he slowly murmured; “they deceive me! -Great God they mock me with a wild dream--I fancy the well grows lighter -and lighter--but ’tis a dream, a mocking dream!” - -As he spoke, a cold substance pressed against the palm of his right hand -as it grasped the stone--it moved and writhed, while a hissing sound -broke on the ear. Two points of flame, like minute yet intensely -brilliant fire coals, glared before the very eyes of Adrian, and as the -hissing grew louder, he found that a vile serpent wriggled between the -fingers of his right hand. - -With a sensation of unutterable disgust, he suspended his body by the -left hand, and dashed the monster down the abyss with one quick motion -of his hand. - -The impulse with which he flung the serpent from his grasp, caused his -body to quiver and tremble over the abyss, while the sinews of the left -hand seemed bursting from the skin, as with the nervous grasp of -despair, the doomed lord strove to recover the stone lately clutched by -the other hand. - -With one wild sweep he regained his grasp, springing heavily on the -jutting rock in the action, while a deep rumbling sound disturbed the -silence of the well. Another moment passed. Well was it for Adrian that -he had refrained from trusting to the rock for support. The massive -stone slowly swung to and fro, trembling over the depths of the well, -and then with a crash like thunder, went whizzing down the abyss. - -Up, up, from the fathomless depths, thundering and shrieking, arose the -deafening echoes, yelling like spirit-voices in the ear of the trembling -man, as he swayed to and fro over the blackness of the void. - -It was a moment ere Adrian might recall his wandering thoughts. - -He looked over his shoulder, he gazed upon the opposite side of the -well. God of Mercy, was it a dream, a phantasmal creation of fancy, a -mocking delusion of his crazed brain? There, before his very eyes, -gilding the opposite side of the wall, a golden space, large as the -human hand, shone in his very face. - -“It is the light of day!” muttered Adrian, as his heart rose to his very -throat; “it is, it is the light of day!” - -“Ha, ha, ha! water!” the shriek came yelling from the room far, far, far -above--“water, water!” - -Grasping the stones below, Adrian descended another yard, when a ray of -light shone on his face from a crevice in the wall to which he hung, -trembling with a new joy, quivering in every nerve with a new life. - -He thrust his right hand into the hollow of the crevice, and as a large -flat stone fell echoing before him, a gush of light streamed through the -wide aperture into the darkness of the abyss. - -“I stand within a rock-bound passage!” exclaimed Adrian, “‘tis narrow as -the grave, narrow as a coffin, yet twenty yards beyond I see the light -of day! Great God give me strength; do not, do not fail me now! -Strength, a little strength, and I may yet be saved!” - -Prostrate upon the floor of the narrow passage, which the falling stone -had disclosed, he turned his body, and, thrusting his face into the -gloom of the well, once more gazed far, far above. - -“Murderer that he is, I will not desert him!” he cried; “he has been my -comrade in the living tomb--he shall be my comrade in the light of God’s -own day!” - -No sooner did the words pass his lips, than a shriek of intense horror, -came pealing down the abyss, a mass of red fire crowned the summit of -the well, and hot cinders, and burning coals swept through the darkness -of the void, hissing by the very face of Adrian, and marking their -flight with long lines of streaming flame. - -Adrian withdrew his head from the well and listened. - -A low moan, a choking groan, and then a succession of yells, resounded -through the void. Then the crackling of flames, then the falling of -age-cemented masonry; then a wild shriek, and then a voice of horror-- - -“I burn, I burn! oh fiend of hell, I burn!” - -The air was cloven by the rushing of a falling body, and thundering down -the well, with arms outspread, with his face all crushed and blackened, -stamped with a look of agony that might never be forgotten, Balvardo was -for a moment disclosed by the light shining through the aperture, before -the very eye of Adrian, and then there was a hissing noise, followed by -a sullen rebound, and then all was still. - -The soul of Balvardo, the Sworder, stood beside the soul of his master -in the judgment halls of the Unknown. - -“Away, away!” shouted Adrian, maddened by the memory of that -despair-stricken face; “away from this earth-hidden hell! Strength, my -God, oh give me strength, and I may yet be saved!” - -Creeping on hands and knees, he advanced along the subterranean passage, -the light growing brighter at every step, and at last the twenty paces -were left behind, he crawled from the rock, he stood in the open air. - -His voice failed him, he gazed around. - -Far, far above him, ascended the gray steep on which the Convent was -reared, far, far above him, he beheld the blue sky, tinted with the glow -of the dying day, he beheld the platform rock and the frowning tower, -wrapt in clouds of lurid smoke, while tongues of forked flame, swept up -to the very azure, turning the glow of the setting sun to bloody red. - -He stood on the side of a ravine, with the darkness of the abyss yawning -beneath him, while the rugged ascent of rocks on the opposite side rose -towering before his eye, veiling the mountain lake from his sight, and -giving a faint glimpse of the eastern sky. - -Dark and dreary, tangled with gnarled shrubs, rough with rifted rocks, a -score of fathoms down, sunk the wild abyss, with the hills, or rather -the overhanging cliff gathering around its blackness, like the sides of -one vast death-bowl of ebony. - -In truth it looked like the crater of an extinct volcano. - -With a glance Adrian beheld the smoke and flame, the Convent and the -blue sky above, the glimpse of the eastern horizon, the rocks ascending -on the opposite side of the ravine, and the blackness of the abyss -below, and then his soul was riveted to a spectacle of horror extended -at his very feet. - -There before his very eyes, a mangled carcass was thrown along the -surface of a rugged rock, the trunk, the limbs, the arms, the garments -and draperies of gold, all mingled in one foul mass of corruption, while -the face was buried amid a cluster of stunted shrubs of laurel. - -Adrian reached forth his hand, he raised the face, he beheld the blue -tint of corruption, the eyes lolling from their sockets, the blackened -tongue hanging from the mouth!-- - -“The Duke,” he shrieked, “the Duke of Florence!” - -He turned from the sight with intolerable disgust, and as he turned, he -beheld appearing from amid the shrubs, on the other side of the small -platform of sand on which he stood, a bared arm laid along the earth -grasping a keen and slender-bladed dagger, with a grasp that death and -corruption could not unclose. - -Adrian sprang forward, he unwound the dagger from the grasp of the hand, -he beheld a parchment scroll secured around the haft of the glittering -steel. He tore the scroll from the dagger, he flung it open to the -light, and beheld these words written in a fair unwavering hand-- - -“Brothers of the Invisible! When this hand that writes these words is -cold in death, the scroll of Albertine the Monk, will tell the story of -his vengeance on the Tyrant-Duke. - -“The midnight hour is now past--I go to plunge the dagger of the Holy -Steel in the Heart of the Doomed. Ask ye for the Heir of Albarone! Three -hours ago, ere the Duke arrived in the valley, I bade him farewell -forever. Midnight came, and I learned that the Son of Lord Julian was -about to meet his death in the vaults of the Convent. - -“One way of rescue alone remained. Protected by my supposed love for the -Duke, I blinded the eyes of the assassin, and offered to do his work of -death. Then mingling a potion, which would minister sleep,--not -death,--I gave it to Lord Adrian--even now his bride gathers his -slumbering form to her embrace in the vaults of the Convent--even now -the assassin waits to bear the body to the grave. - -“One hour from this ye will arrive in the valley, and your eyes will -behold the slumbering form of your Prince--the lifeless corse of the -Tyrant! I go to finish--” - -The scroll broke off abruptly, yet there was enough written to fill the -heart of Adrian with an emotion of joy he had never felt before. - -He sprang among the bushes, he dashed the laurel leaves aside, he turned -the blackening face of the mangled corse to the light. He clasped his -hands on high in silent prayer, while his burning tears fell streaming -over the face of Albertine the Monk. - -Meanwhile gathered along the green sward of a level meadow, extending -from the Convent gates, to the south of the mountain lake, a band of -gallant warriors, reined their war-steeds upon the turf, their upraised -spears marking their numbers by long lines of glittering light. - -A thousand banners waved in the sunset air, and the peal of bugle, and -the stirring notes of the trumpet went echoing upward among the old -convent walls wrapt in smoke, lighted by giant-pillars of blood red -flame. - -In front of the band of warriors, a group of noble lords and high-born -dames, plumed cavaliers and gay-robed damsels,--all mounted on prancing -steeds, swept circling around the figure of a fair and beautiful Ladye, -whose jet-black barb, with its watchful groom, stood reined in their -midst. - -Every tongue was silent, and every eye was fixed upon the death-like -paleness of the maiden’s countenance, contrasting strangely with the -gorgeous robes of purple and gold that drooped round her young and -lovely form. - -Her head bowed slowly on the neck of her steed, and the tears of a -never-dying grief came gushing between the fair and delicate fingers -that strove to veil her face. - -She wept, the fair Ladye Annabel, whose steed was about to spring -forward in the triumphal procession, that would soon give Florence its -lovely queen; the coronet was on her brow, the swords of a thousand -warriors were at her beck, and yet she wept. - -Suddenly a wild murmur ran through the warrior-throng. - -Uprising in the light of the burning Convent--that dark haunt of blood -and awe, now toppling to its foundation, a gray rock, its base concealed -by stunted shrubs, while its brow was turned to the flame-beams, -attracted the gaze of every eye, as a strange spectacle hushed the -whispers of every voice. - -A hand, white as marble, was thrust from behind the rock, lifting a -goblet of gold in the light of the setting sun. - -Deep muttered whispers broke along the warrior-throng, every voice spoke -of some new omen crowning the horrors of the convent during the last -hour of its existence, and the murmurs of the lords and ladies -clustering at her side, attracted the attention of the Ladye Annabel. - -She slowly turned, she gazed upon the uplifted hand with the goblet of -gold rising above the verge of the gray rock--not more than twenty paces -from her side--she gazed in wonder and in awe. - -And as she gazed, a wan and haggard face appeared above the rock, and a -wasted and trembling form, clad in garments of price all soiled and -torn, stood on the verge of the massive stone, flinging the goblet -wildly aloft, as a peal of maniac laughter came thrilling to the -maiden’s ear. - -It was a solemn and impressive scene! - -There swept the knightly host along the green meadow, their spears -gleaming on high, there darkened the smoke and lightened the blaze of -the burning convent, there the calm lake extending ripples along its -mountain-shores, gave its still bosom to the crimson glare of the flame, -and there standing erect upon the brow of the gray rock, his slender -form boldly and clearly relieved by the background of the convent walls, -the light of the flame, the beams of the setting sun; Adrian Di -Albarone, crazed by famine, and maddened with new-born joy, shook wildly -aloft the Goblet of Gold, while his maniac laugh broke echoing on the -evening air. - - - - -CHAPTER THE LAST. - -THE CATHEDRAL OF FLORENCE. - - - THE TASK OF THE WEIRD SPIRIT IS DONE--THE CURTAIN OF FATE FALLS - OVER THE TRAGEDY OF THE HOUSE OF ALBARONE. - -Joy to Florence now, oh joy to the fair city in her streets and through -her lordly halls, joy to the prince of the palace and the peasant of -the cot, joy to the mountain and the dell, joy to the hill and the -valley, joy to the silvery river, joy to the homes of men, joy to the -shrines of God, joy, joy, forever joy! - -The Duke, the people’s Duke is come to reign! Baptized by trial, chosen -by the People, crowned by the Invisible, anointed by God, he comes to -reign! - ---So, after many pages of varied and peculiar interest writes the -Chronicle of the Ancient MSS. in his extravagant way. - -There are light voices filling the air, there are soft steps tripping -through the lordly halls, there are costly draperies sweeping over -marble floors, there are strains of music awaking the echoes of ancient -domes, there are processions thronging the streets in all the pomp of -crucifix and banner, gallant knights ride to and fro, shaking the -glitter of their snowy plumes aloft, the poor creep from their dens of -want, the mighty pour from their homes of pride, the sordid miser -forgets his money bags, the merchant his wares of cost, the scholar his -musty book, the bravo his knife, the children of misery their care, and -all, aye all, come thronging to the high Cathedral of Florence, when the -solemn priest will, ere an hour, amid the glad shouts of thousands, -anoint Adrian Di Albarone, Lord Duke of Florence, and crown his fair -bride, the Ladye Annabel, with the coronet for which Aldarin gave his -soul. - -It is morning, glad and joyous morning, the calm azure arches over the -fair city, gorgeous with temple-dome and palace tower, while the gay -people hasten to the grand Cathedral, anxious to behold the Duke and his -fair bride. - - THE POSTILLION AND THE BUXOM DAMSELS. - -And there tripping merrily along were three peasant damsels, arrayed in -their holiday attire, and with them a bow-legged youth attired as a -postillion, strutted on his way with extended stride and lofty air, -which seemed to say, that all this parade and show, was made for his -sole benefit and especial amusement. - -“Sancta Maria! How he trips it along!” thus spoke the tallest of the -damsels “beshrew, but Sir Francisco is wondrous proud, since he was -knighted by the Duke!” - -“How! knighted?” cried the damsel of the merry black eye. - -“What mean you?” cried the red-haired maiden, and the bow-legged -postillion looked over his shoulder with a vacant stare. - -“Was he not honored with the collar, the hempen collar?” cried the tall -maiden. “Did not that rough soldier of the Count Di Albarone that was, -the Duke of Florence that is now, did not Rough Robin knight Sir -Francisco with his own hands? How dull you are!” - -“Ugh!” exclaimed the postillion shrugging his shoulders. “What -unpleasant things you do remember! And yet the Duke said something very -flattering, when he directed the rope to be taken from my neck. He said, -says he, he said, I tell you--that I-- - -“Was a little impertinent, insignificant, busy-body,” exclaimed Theresa, -laughing. “But Francisco what mean you to do with the reward, you -received from the Duke that was murdered, eh? Francisco?” - -“Yes, yes, what are you going to do with all that gold?” cried -Dollabella, and the three gathered around the youth with evident -interest, expressed in each face in the glittering eyes and the parted -lips. - -“Why Theresa, Dollabella, and Loretta,” answered the postillion, looking -slowly round, with an expression of the deepest solemnity, “I mean -to--that is, I intend--by’r Ladye the Cathedral bell is ringing. Come -along, girls!” - -“Ha, ha, ha! ’Tis a fair day and a bright,” laughed a shrill voice at -the elbow of Francisco, “Florence is full of joy and e’en I, I am glad.” - -A tremor of fear ran round the group as they beheld the form of the -speaker, the distorted face, the wide mouth, the large rolling eyes, and -the deformed figure with the unsightly hump on the shoulders, giving a -half-brutal appearance to the stranger, while from lip to lip, ran the -whisper-- - -“The Doomsman, the Doomsman!” - -“Aye, aye, the Doomsman! And why not pray? Dare not the Doomsman laugh? -Ha, ha, ha! What a fine neck thou hast for the axe, good youth; or now -that I think o’t it would stretch a rope passing well. ’Tis a fine day, -good folk, and I’m hastening to the Cathedral, to behold the crowning of -one of my children, that is Children of the Axe.” - -“Thy children?” echoed Francisco, aghast with fear. “Can a shadow like -thee, have children?” - -“Children o’ th’ axe, boy. I’ faith if all the world had their own, I’d -have thy neck--a merry jest, nothing more boy, ho, ho, ho! Do’st see -these fingers.” - -“Vulture’s talons rather!” - -“These, these were round his royal throat, while the lead, the seething -lead waited for his princely body, and the wheel of torture was arrayed -for his lordly repose. Ha, ha, ha! I would see him crowned, by the fiend -would I! But come boy, thou knowest somewhat of city gossip, tell me, -does this Sir Geoffrey O’ Th’ Longsword, stabbed by his own son, a good -boy, he, he, he, does he yet live?” - -“Have not prayers been offered in all the Cathedrals for the miracle?” - -“The miracle? Enlighten me, good youth!” - -“Hast thou not heard, how the force of the blow was swayed aside, by a -piece of the true wood o’ th’ cross, which the old soldier had worn over -his heart for years? A miracle, old shadow, a miracle!” - -“Nay, nay, call me not shadow, I’ll never darken thy way to the gallows. -But tell me, fair sir, did not the dagger pierce the old man’s heart?” - -“It grazed the heart, but did not pierce it. Any city gossip might tell -thee this, old thunder cloud!” - -“And so the old man lives?” - -“He doth! Thou art wondrous sorry that he still breathes the air, I -warrant me?” - -“Nay, nay, good youth. I bear Sir Geoffrey no harm, but dost see--the -wheel, the axe and the boiling lead, all were ready for the boy -Guiseppo, and, and, but ’tis the will of heaven! I can bear -disappointment, he, he, he, in all matters, save in one. Thy neck boy, -ha, ha, ha, the Doomsman’s fingers itch for thy neck!” - -And while the peasant-group, the three buxom damsels, and the -light-brained postillion, shrunk back from the touch of the distorted -being with disgust, and stood thrilled with the fear of his words of -omen, the Doomsman glided away, mingling with the vast crowd who -thronged the streets of the wide city. - -Standing upon the throne of gold, attired in the purple robes of a -prince, Adrian Di Albarone, glanced with a brightening eye, and a -swelling heart, upon the gorgeous scene around him, and then his glance -was fixed upon the fair and lovely maiden by his side, whose eyes of -dreamy beauty were downward cast, while a soft flush deepened the hue of -her cheek, as she seemed to shrink from the gaze of the vast multitude, -extending over the pavement, and along the aisles of the cathedral. - -Adrian cast his eyes upon the throng around the throne. - -There stood bold Robin, the stout Yeoman, attired in a garish -appareling, which he seemed to like not half so well as his plain suit -of buff, defended by armor plates of steel; and there his locks of gray, -falling on his knightly surcoat, emblazoned on the breast with the red -cross of the crusaders, stood the brave Sir Geoffrey O’ Th’ Longsword, -attended on either side by the gallant esquires Damian and Halbert, each -with a grim smile on his scarred face, as he surveyed the pomp and show -glittering along the cathedral aisles. - -Standing at the back of his father, his eye downcast, and his thoughts, -Guiseppo seemed musing on the fearful blow, which had well nigh burdened -his soul with the nameless crime. He said nothing, nor spoke of the pomp -around him, but with folded arms stood silent and apart. - -Standing beside her queenly cousin, with a group of bower maidens -clustering around, the damosel Rosalind glanced from side to side with a -merry twinkle of her eye, and look of maidenly wonder, as the glare and -the glitter, the pomp and the show of the scene broke on her vision, and -came thundering on her ear. - -Amid the throng of noble dames, towered the stately form of the Lady Di -Albarone, with a proud smile on her lip, and a haughty glance in her -eye, as she looked with all a mother’s pride upon her son’s advancement -to his right of birth and honor. - -And higher grew the sound of pipe and cymbal, mingling with the roll of -drum, and the peal of trumpet, and deeply booming along the arches of -the cathedral, came the voice of the swelling organ, seeming as though -some spirit of light had trained the mountain thunder to the strains of -harmony, now soft and gentle, now awful, now sublime, and ever filling -the soul with high and glowing thoughts. - -And now the bright sunbeams came flaunting through the arched windows of -the cathedral, and every eye was fixed upon the throne, and every voice -was hushed in expectation, as the moment of the approaching ceremony -drew nigh. - -A murmur ran along the aisles of the cathedral, and it deepened into a -cry-- - -“He comes, the holy abbot of St. Peter’s of Florence!” - -And every sound was hushed, as the venerable man of heaven raised the -golden coronet, set with rarest jewels, and the sceptre of ivory from -the altar of the cathedral, and ascending the steps of the throne he was -received by Adrian Di Albarone with lowered head, and bended knee. - -“Sound heralds, sound!” - -And then the heralds, standing one on either side of the throne, gave a -blast loud and long to the air, and proclaiming to the lineage, the -title, and the birth of Lord Adrian Count Di Albarone, they flung each -man, his glove upon the marble floor, challenging all the world to say -aught against the right of descent claimed by the duke elect. There came -no answer to the challenge. - -“Lord Adrian Count Di Albarone,” thus spoke the abbot; “in the name of -God, in the name of Christ and St. Peter, and by the blessing of the -Holy Vicar of Christ upon earth, I proclaim thee Sovereign Lord of -Florence, the city and the field, the mountain and the stream! I bestow -upon thee the golden coronet--wear it with glory and honor. I place this -sceptre of ivory in thy grasp--wield it with justice and truth. Arise -Adrian, LORD DUKE OF FLORENCE!” - -As thus he spoke, with his mind glowing with the memory of the day when -he had mingled in the battle fray, side by side, with the sire of the -gallant youth who knelt at his feet, the tones of the abbot’s voice rose -high and clear, and with eyes upraised to heaven, and outspread hands, -he seemed to implore a benizen upon the bridal pair. - -One shout, long and deep, ascended from the multitude. Adrian arose upon -his feet, and lifted the gorgeous coronet from his brow. He took the -fair Ladye Annabel by the hand, and as the blushes grew deeper on her -cheek, he impressed upon her brow a kiss that told at once of the love -of the youth for his mistress, and the admiration of the knight for his -fair ladye. - -He extended his hand, and in an instant the coronet rested upon the brow -of the lovely bride. - -The vast cathedral roof echoed with the thunder shout of the myriad -voices, the strains of the swelling music filled the air, at each pause -of the deafening cries of joy; the warriors flung their swords in the -air, the fair dames and damosels waved their snow-white hands on high, -and one universal gush of joy hailed the fair Ladye Annabel Duchess of -Florence! - -“My own fair bride,” Adrian whispered, “the night has passed, and our -morning cometh.” - -While her heart yet throbbed with indefinable emotion, Adrian led his -gentle bride to the ducal chair, and side by side, they awaited the -homage of the noble throng of lords and ladies, knights and damosels. - -Many a noble lord, and many a haughty dame, advancing to the throne, -bowed low at the feet of the Duke Adrian, and kissed the fair hand of -the Duchess Annabel. - -At last a man of lofty stature, and commanding port, with locks of gray -hair falling back from a stern, determined face, paled by disease, and -wan with thought, and ascending the steps of the throne, sank on one -knee before the duke. - -“Rise, brave knight,” exclaimed Adrian; “rise brave Sir Geoffrey O’ Th’ -Longsword; rise lord keeper of our castle Di Albarone. Thy youth has -been wasted fighting for the cause of the late venerated lord; thy age -shall be rendered calm and peaceful within the walls of the castle, with -whose brave soldiers thou hast so often gone forth to the ranks of -battle.” - -And placing the baton of command within the hand of the brave knight, he -raised him from his kneeling position. Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Longsword -replied not to the Duke with words of flattery.--One glance of the eye, -and one grasp of the hand, was all the answer that greeted the Duke -Adrian. - -Then came Robin the Rough, ascending the throne with a half-solemn air, -as though he were afraid of soiling the steps of gold. With a true -soldier’s salute he dropped on one knee, awaiting the command of the -Duke to rise. - -“Arise, bold Robin,” said Adrian, unsheathing the sword that hung at his -side--“Arise--no longer Robin the stout yeoman, but Sir Roberto Di -Capello, Lord of the Lands of Capello!” - -No sooner did bold Robin feel the sword of the Duke slightly pressed -upon his shoulder conferring knighthood, than he sprang upon his feet, -and looked around with surprise and wonder expressed in his distended -eyes and parted lips. - -“Hast any boon to ask, Sir Roberto?” exclaimed the Duke. - -“Why, an’ it please thee, my Lord Duke,” answered Robin, recovering from -his surprise--“Why an’ it please thee, I have a boon to ask. I had much -rather follow thee to battle in my old attire, in my coat of buff and my -armor of steel. I like not this dainty trim.” - -With a smile the Duke granted his characteristic request, and as the -bold soldier retired, Adrian waved his hand to one who stood in the -throng around the throne. From the ancient chronicle we gather these -words concerning - - “THE ROMANCER.” - -A man attired in a tunic of dark velvet reaching to his knee, and with -long locks of dark brown hair falling beneath the velvet cap of the -scholar, now came forward and ascended the throne. In stature he was of -the middle height, slim and well formed, with a face marked by irregular -features, full cheeks, a mouth with large lips, while his hazel eyes, -looking from beneath dark eyebrows, warmed with the inward soul. - -“Most famed Romancer”--thus spoke the Duke to the person who knelt -before him. “Most famed Romancer of the North, wear this signet for my -sake. Men shall long keep in memory the wondrous Histories which thy -pen, full of fancy, hath pictured. Add now to the number the Historie of -the House Di Albarone. Take this ring as an earnest of future bounty. -Thou shalt away with me to the Holy Land, thou shall chronicle the wars -of the Christian and the Paynim. ERICCI IL NORMANI arise!” - -Thus spoke the flattery of the Duke to the humble Romancer, thus he bade -me indite my poor Historie, which, should it ever outlive this century, -will serve at least to give some small glimpses of the crimes, the glory -and the fame of the House Di Albarone. - -And now, with his beaming eye no longer glowing with gaiety, but dark -and thoughtful, came the Page Guiseppo; and side by side with the damsel -Rosalind he knelt and did homage to his Lord. But why tell of Guiseppo -and Rosalind--Is not the story of their fortunes found in the Historie -of the Page and the Damsel? - -The Duke turned to the vast multitude. He raised his sword on high. - -“Witness, ye gallant knights, witness, ye fair dames, I now swear upon -the hilt of my sword, that the morrow’s sun shall behold me and my -followers bound for Palestine, there to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. -And so help me God and St. George!” - -And there stood Adrian, with his ducal robe of purple thrown back from -his shoulders, his right hand pressing his sword hilt to his lip, his -left arm raised to the heavens, while his eyes flashed with all the -enthusiasm of his soul. - -The cry ran like a lightning flash through the temple, every voice was -for Palestine, every tongue shouted--“on--on to the rescue--God for the -Holy Sepulchre!” - -Sir Geoffrey o’ th’ Long-sword raised his sword on high, the Ladye -Annabel, fired by the holy feeling of the moment, lifted the cross of -ebony depending from her neck to her lips, as a thunder-shout arose from -the multitude, and while all was exultation and joy, bold Robin the -stout yeoman flung the broad banner of the Duke to the air, and the -bright sunbeams shining upon the azure folds gilded with dazzling light -the blazonry of gold, and every eye beheld the armorial bearings of the -Lord of Florence, with the words in letters of gold-- - - “GRASP BOLDLY, AND BRAVELY STRIKE!” - -“It is past, the dark and fearful night,” again repeated Adrian, as he -gazed over this scene of wild enthusiasm; “Lo! the morning cometh!” - - * * * * * - -As he spoke the cathedral was suddenly darkened, a thick mist filled the -Church, and one man could scarce distinguish the form of another by his -side. - -A wild, hollow laugh sounded to the very roof of the cathedral, it rung -upon the senses of the vast multitude, and was echoed from every aisle -of the solemn temple. - -“What means the darkness?” Adrian shouted, drawing his sword; “Hist! I -hear a footstep. It passes over the throne. It passes between me and -thee Annabel; yet I see no form, I hear no voice.” - -“Ha, ha, ha!” The wild laugh again rose upon the dark and twilight air. - -“He stands by my side!” shrieked the Ladye Annabel; “It is _he_--it is -my father!” - -And she trembled with affright, and leaned shrinking upon the arm of the -Duke, while her fair blue eyes dilated with a strange expression, and -her glance was fixed in one wild dread look upon the darkened air. - -“It is done!” exclaimed a voice breaking from the vacancy of the air; -“_It is done! Fair daughter of mine, thou art Duchess of Florence--the -coronet is on thy brow--all is fulfilled!_” - -“Holy Mary, save me!” shrieked Annabel in a low whispered tone; “an icy -hand is pressed upon my brow. It is like the hand of death.” - -And as there she stood upon the throne of gold, her form upraised to its -full height, her eye fixed on vacancy, and her fair white hands -trembling with an unreal fear, a feeling of terrible and overwhelming -AWE over-shadowed each heart, and paled each face, while the solemn -tones of the spirit voice broke on the ear of the lovely bride. - -“In life thou wert my ambition, and in the solemn walks of death, amid -the fear that may not be named, and the gloom that may be dared, thy -father, maiden, is still the evil angel of all who wish thee harm, or do -thee wrong.” - -A low moaning sound broke on the air, and again the words of the spirit -voice came to the Lady Annabel-- - -“The last behest of thy father--the parchment scroll, and the phial of -silver confided to thy hands--hast thou obeyed the dying words of -Aldarin?” - -The cheek of the Lady Annabel became pale as death, and her eye grew -bright with supernatural lustre. The hurried words of the scroll, -written in the blood of the doomed man, the fearful request, the dark -hints at the re-vivification of his mortal body, by the action of the -water of life, all to be accomplished by the devotion of his -daughter----flashed over her brain at the moment, when the gloom of the -presence of the dead, darkened the joy of the living, and the Ladye -turned to Adrian, and murmured with a whisper of hollow emphasis-- - -“The corse, Adrian, the corse of my father--where doth it rest?” - -“It hath no place of repose on earth,” was the solemn answer. “Given to -the invisible air, the mortal frame finds nor home, nor resting place in -sacred chapel, or in wild wood glade; but mingled with the unseen winds, -floating in the atmosphere of heaven; on, and on forever wanders the -earthly dust of the Scholar, denied repose on earth, refused judgment by -heaven, condemned to the eternal solitudes of the disembodied spirit; -on, and on it wanders seeking companionship with the mighty soul of -Aldarin!” - -And a low and solemn voice, speaking from the invisible air, murmured -the words--“It is finished, - - -IT IS FINISHED!” - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] There have been one or two persons, who have made themselves merry -with this passage. These persons, however, belong to that large class -of literary pretenders who are always in the market, as the phrase -goes, willing to edit anything, publish anything, take one side to day, -another to morrow, for a little notoriety and a little bread. Their -criticisms, do not demand an answer. You can have their good opinion -for a dollar, and be adored by the whole tribe, for the gift of a -dinner. - -But, a word is due to the candid reader, in regard to the Doomsman’s -description of Capital Punishment in the olden time. _The author is not -responsible for a single line, word, or comma._ He has left a wretch, -embrated, nay, demonized by spectacles of carnage, to describe the slow -agonies of a horrible death, in his own way. - -In the same manner, in another work, the author has introduced the -Moloch of modern law,--the Hangman,--who but the cowardly instrument of -a cowardly vengeance, puts a rope about his defenceless victim’s neck, -and in a dark jail yard, chokes him slowly to death, while Ministers -of Religion stand by, and approve the murder, with copious texts and -learned references. - -The author is no more responsible for the ravings of the Hangman, than -he is for the ravings of the hireling critic. - -[2] The word which we have written “Postillion,” in the ancient MSS. -indicates a Courier, a Messenger; “one who carries letters from place -to place.” This personage, whom we here designated, “Francisco the -Courier,” is not unfrequently styled “Cisco the vagabond,” in the -original manuscripts. - -[3] With his own peculiar abruptness, (to which the reader is by this -time accustomed) the Chronicler of the Ancient MSS. changes the scene -to the Valley of the Bowl, noticed in Chap. 3. Book. 3. - -[4] The story changes to Albarone again. - -[5] It will be seen that the Chronicler of the ancient MSS. goes on to -picture the events of the previous night, in the succeeding chapter. - -[6] It is observable that the chronicler of the ancient MSS. applies -the word Alembic to an open vessel resembling a crucible in shape. - -[7] Ibrahim Ben-Malakim (Arabic) “the Son of the Kings.” - -[8] This song is taken from an old Monkish Chaunt, and makes no -pretensions to poetic beauty. - -[9] The Chronicler of the Ancient MSS uses the phrase as a general and -comprehensive term, to designate the ‘_man of the feudal times_.’ - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Mysteries of Florence, by George Lippard - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE *** - -***** This file should be named 62760-0.txt or 62760-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/7/6/62760/ - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images available at The Internet Archive) - - -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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