IN AND OUT THE SHADOW
It is strange I remember so little from that instant when my tortured
hands released their frantic grasp on the stone slab of the floor. I
recall the sharp pain, as that fair-faced fiend stamped upon my
clutching fingers; I heard the echo of sneering laughter with which she
mocked my last upward look of agony, but, with the plunge downward into
that black, unknown abyss, all clear recollection ceased--I even retain
no memory of the severe shock which must have occurred as my fall
ended. Whether excess of fear paralyzed the brain, or what may have
been the cause for such a phenomenon, I know not. I merely state the
fact.
I awoke--how much later God alone knows--lying upon the rough stone
bottom of an awful well, huddled in its blackness. When I finally made
attempt at straightening my cramped limbs it seemed as if each separate
muscle had been beaten and bruised, and it required no little
manipulation before I even recovered sufficient strength to stand
upright and endeavor to ascertain the nature of my grewsome
prison-house. My stiffness caused me to believe that I must have lain
motionless for several hours in the same cramped position into which I
fell, before even regaining consciousness. Another evidence of this
was the blood which, having flowed copiously from a severe cut upon the
back of my head, had so thoroughly hardened as to stanch the ugly
wound, thus, perhaps, preserving my life.
Slowly I returned to a clear realization of my position, for my eyes
opened upon such intense darkness I could scarcely comprehend in my
weakened, dazed condition that it was not all a dream from which I was
yet to awaken. Little by little the mind began asserting itself,
vaguely feeling here and there, putting scrap with scrap, until
returning memory poured in upon me like a flood, and I grasped the
terrible truth that I was buried alive. The knowledge was a deathlike
blow, with which I struggled desperately, seeking to regain control
over my shattered nerves. I recall yet the frenzied laugh bursting
from my lips--seemingly the lips of a stranger--ringing wild and
hollow, not unlike the laughter of the insane; I remember tearing wide
open the front of my doublet, feeling I must surely choke from the
suffocating pressure upon my chest; I retain memory of glaring
violently into the darkness; how I fondled the sharp edge of the
hunting knife, crying and shouting impotent curses, which I trust God
has long ago forgiven, at that incarnate devil who had hurled me down
to such living death. Terror dominated my brain, pulsed like molten
fire through my blood, until, as the desperation of my situation became
more clearly defined, I tottered upon the very verge of insanity,
feeling I should soon become a helpless, gibbering imbecile.
Yet, as I succeeded in staggering weakly to my feet, the movement and
exertion served to quiet my apprehensions, while hope came faintly
back, bringing with it, as though newly born, a determination never to
yield without one manly struggle. I possessed a knife; perchance there
might be discovered some opportunity for using it. With outspread
hands, and groping feet, I attempted to advance, but found I had fallen
so close to the centre of the well that I had to make several steps
before my extended fingers touched the cold wall. This I followed
slowly, passing exploring hands with utmost care over each inch, from
the floor to as high as I could reach on tiptoe, until confident I had
made the complete circuit. It was all the same, vast slabs of flat
stone, welded together by some rude yet effective masonry, the mortar
between impervious to the sharp probing of the knife. Again and again
I made that circuit, testing each crack, sounding every separate stone
in the hope of discovering some slight fault in construction by which I
might profit. Everywhere I was confronted by the same dull, dead wall
of cold, hard rock, against which I exerted strength and skill
uselessly. Finally I dropped upon my knees, creeping inch by inch
across the floor, but with no better result. It likewise was composed
of great slabs of stone, one having an irregular crack running through
it from corner to corner, but all alike solid and immovable.
Then the last faint flicker of hope deserted me. Yet the exercise of
that fruitless search had restored some measure of manhood; my brain no
longer throbbed with dull agony, nor did my veins burn as with liquid
fire. I felt convinced this black vault was destined to become my
grave; here in after years, perhaps, some straying hunter might uncover
my mouldering bones, wondering idly at my unknown story, for here I was
surely doomed to face all that was mysterious and terrible in death.
Well, that end must come to me some time, as to all men; I had seen
many die, and, although fate faced me in far more horrid guise than any
of these others, yet after all it was merely death, and I had no more
cause to fear it here in the dark than yonder in the sunshine.
Besides, I retained the keen knife-blade; if worse came to worse that
was available for release. I passed it caressingly through my fingers,
wondering would God forgive its use if the moment came when I must
choose between insanity and death.
Merciful Heaven! how time dragged! What awful conceptions were formed
in my fevered brain! What leering, sardonic faces pictured themselves
against the black wall; what demon voices spoke and laughed in the void
above! At times I stood in a cave thronged with jeering devils, some
with the savage countenance of the heathen, some yet more satanic; yet
ever in the midst of their maddest orgies, the cruel mockery of the
infamous Naladi appeared more hellish than that of the rest. She
leered down upon me from every side until I seemed to stare into a
thousand faces, each wearing her hateful, sardonic smile.
I paced the floor with feverish impatience, counting my steps from wall
to wall, hoping by this means to retain control of my brain.
Experiencing the sharp pangs of hunger, I slashed a bit of leather from
my belt, and chewed it savagely as a dog might chew a dry bone. In my
despair, I danced, snapping my fingers, and hurling bitter taunts at
the unseen upper world. Exhausted by such useless frenzy, I would sink
prone to the floor, every nerve unstrung, lying there panting in
helplessness until returning strength again sent me back and forth in
that awful tramp from wall to wall. I perceived that the strain of
that horrible haunted silence was driving me mad. There was no escape,
no hope, no peace. Again and again did I break from incoherent ravings
to sink upon my knees, beseeching God for mercy. Yet I arose without
rest, without peace. At last I sank weakly down against the wall and
lay trembling in every limb, staring blindly with wide-open, unseeing
eyes.
I had come to the very end--to that moment when my limbs refused longer
to support my swaying body, when my tortured brain was picturing scenes
of hellish ingenuity. Ah! look! see! yonder comes now another to
torment my soul. O God! Mark that grim, gray face floating against
the wall! Away, you foul fiend! I am not yet your prey! But see! see
how the ghastly horror grows! It is as large as a man; and mark those
long, gaunt arms reaching up until they meet overhead. Suddenly it
seemed to shed a strange, unnatural radiance over the cave. I imagined
I saw things about me. What, Mother of Mercies, can it be? Daylight!
Oh, good God! do my eyes actually look upon the day once more--the
sweet, sweet, blessed day? Surely it is but a dream; yet no! it must
truly be light streaming down from above.
I staggered to my feet, trembling so that I was compelled to clutch the
wall for support. Swinging and swaying down toward me through the dim
light, now in the radiance, anon in the shadow, twisting and turning
like a great snake, a grass rope steadily dropped ring by ring until
its loosened end coiled on the stone floor. I saw it, never believing
the testimony of my own eyes, until my trembling hand had actually
closed upon it. Then, with the touch in my fingers, the hot tears
gushed from my blinded eyes, the tension on my brain gave way, and I
was Geoffrey Benteen once more. A cautious whisper pierced the silence.
"If you remain alive, have you strength to mount the rope quickly?"
So parched and swollen were my lips I could not answer, yet managed to
take stronger grasp upon the cord, and, finding it firmly held above,
made earnest effort to climb. 'Twas a desperate undertaking for one
who had passed through the strain which had befallen me; but now, the
trembling having somewhat passed, I found myself not entirely devoid of
strength, while an intense desire to escape from that hell made me
willing to venture. I was dimly conscious of a face gazing intently
down through the small aperture, yet, with the swaying of that loosened
rope, the slipperiness of its grassy strands between my fingers, I
found little opportunity for glancing upward while slowly winning
toilsome way toward the light. It was as hard a struggle for life as I
ever made, my heart almost ceasing to hope, when I finally felt a hand
close firmly upon the collar of my jacket. With that help, I struggled
on, until, panting and exhausted, I sank upon the skin-carpeted floor
of the apartment from whence I had been hurled into that living tomb.
Half turning as I fell, I gazed into the face of my rescuer,
endeavoring to smile as my glad eyes met those of Eloise de Noyan.
"Oh, hush!" she sobbed. "Do not speak of what you have suffered, for I
read it all in your eyes. Oh, my poor, poor boy! I thank the merciful
Christ you are still alive. Yet I know not how long that demon in form
of woman may be absent; besides, her savage guards are everywhere. The
slightest sound might bring one to the door, and it will be better that
she believe you her victim, buried forever in that foul grave."
I could but gaze at her, my breath coming in sobs of pain.
"How chanced it, Madame, you knew I was thus entombed?" and my hand,
yet bleeding from contact with the rope, ventured to touch her own.
She looked into my eyes bravely, a red flush in either cheek.
"I overheard those bold words you spoke to her last night across the
partition."
"Last night? Rather a week since."
She smiled, her hand-clasp tightening.
"Ah, no, Geoffrey. It has seemed that long even to me waiting
opportunity for service, yet 'tis scarcely eight hours since you were
hurled into yonder hole. See; the sun in the sky tells the story
truly. But every moment we delay only serves to increase our peril of
discovery. Assist me, if you have strength, to relay this stone slab.
It tested my muscles sorely to drag it aside. No doubt there is a
cunning spring somewhere, by use of which it moves easily, yet I sought
after it in vain."
Toiling together we finally succeeded in returning the flat cover to
its proper position in the flooring, and spread over it a thick skin.
Seeing everything was left exactly as when she entered, Madame, who had
become a new woman to my eyes, capable and alert, silently led me
through a narrow curtained recess to the second apartment. This had
evidently been designed as the Queen's reception room, being fairly
gorgeous in coloring, the low walls covered with shields of beaten
copper, while burnished bits of the same metal, mingled with duller
tones of gold and iron, were scattered everywhere in strange profusion.
Varied tinted stones and sea-shells had been built into a raised
platform, on which stood a couch hidden beneath rich robes of skin, and
draped about with multicolored cloth of rude design and texture.
Altogether it was an interior of rich barbaric splendor, savage in its
unusual beauty, yet possessing here and there an odd touch of
civilization almost startling by contrast. You must understand that I
enjoyed little opportunity to gaze about and note such details, for
Madame was impatient of delay, hurrying me forward until we entered
together a partially concealed passage behind where the couch stood.
Here my fair guide paused, thrusting into my hands a quantity of food
hastily appropriated from a long shelf, concealed by a curtain of
scarlet cloth.
"Eat heartily," she commanded quickly, "for you seem very weak.
Meanwhile I will stand here, keeping watch lest we be taken by
surprise. Should I give a signal, lift yonder red curtain at its
farther end, and hide there in silence until I come again."
I partook of the coarse food eagerly enough, yet my eyes were ever upon
her, my lips even finding time for speech.
"Have you some plan, Madame?" I questioned anxiously. "You said but
now this house was held under heavy guard."
"I spoke truly. I may not step forth into the air but some savage is
at my side driving me back again. Oftentimes they peer within when the
Queen is absent, to assure themselves that I am safely caged."
"And this Naladi--does she treat you well?"
The swift color mounted into her clear cheeks.
"Not ill, so far, at least, as relates to the physical," she responded
gravely. "No hand has been angrily laid upon me since I was dragged
forth from the altar-house. Yet there are other forms of torture; and
she constantly mocks me with my helplessness, and, I believe, even
hates me for no better reason than that I stand between her and the
Chevalier."
"You have seen him?"
"No; but have heard his voice while he held private converse with her,
the shameless wanton; have listened to words ill suited to the ears of
a wife. She is a witch, and the slumbering devil in her has made snare
for his weakness."
"I greatly fear there may be truth in this," I returned, scarcely
knowing how best to speak at such a time, marking the agitation of her
breathing. "Naladi is a fair woman, softly spoken and seductive when
it is her purpose to please. There are not many men who could resist
her wiles. Yet possibly, Madame, were you to have converse with the
Chevalier your plea might break the spell."
She turned toward me with proud, impetuous gesture, and I was surprised
at the sudden indignant light glowing within her dark eyes.
"No, Geoffrey Benteen, that will never be. I am this man's wife. He
has vowed himself to me before the sacred altar of Holy Church. Think
you that I, a lady born of France, would abase myself to beseech his
loyalty? Not though life or death hung upon the issue! If he can cast
me aside for the caresses of this savage harlot, he may forever go his
way; never will my hand halt him, or my voice claim his allegiance. I
am his wife before God; to the end I will be true unto my solemn
pledges to Holy Church; yet I hope never to look again upon the false
face of Charles de Noyan."
"Are you not over-hasty in such decision?" I ventured, conscious of a
gladness in my own heart at her impulsive speech. "Possibly this is a
mere passing whim, an idle fancy; he may yet emerge from the craze
purified by trial."
She looked hard at me, as if seeking to penetrate the flimsy mask I
wore, and I beheld a pride in her uplifted face such as had never been
visible there before.
"Such might be the way with some women," she returned firmly. "I am of
a race to whom honor is everything. My father gave his life for no
less, and I hold him right in his choice. I may forgive much of
wrong--ay! have forgiven--yet the stain of dishonor now rests upon the
proud name I bear, and that can never be forgiven. Whether in New
Orleans, or the heart of this wilderness, I am still Eloise Lafrénière,
the daughter of a gentleman of France. I would die by the torture of
these savages before I would surrender the honor due my race."
There was that in her proud speech silencing my tongue from further
expostulation, even had I believed De Noyan deserved a defender. He
had deliberately chosen his path, now let him follow it; any man who
would thus lightly tread on the heart of such a woman was clearly
outside the radius of human sympathy, deserving to be. Certainly I
felt no call to stand between him and his fate.
"I may not comprehend the claims of family pride, Madame," I responded
finally, for want of something better. "Of that I know little. Yet I
cannot contend that your decision is wrong. However, let us talk of
other things, permitting this disagreement to adjust itself. You have
not stated how I am to escape from this present predicament. It surely
looks a problem not easily solved."
"Nor is it clear even in my mind," she admitted, evidently relieved by
the change of topic, "because I do not know the ending of a certain
passage underground. Yet I have a plan. Behind the curtain, yonder, a
concealed opening leads downward into an underground gallery. I have
ventured to explore it for only a brief distance, but trust it may end
under the open sky. At least our only hope is that you may discover
some such ending. If not, you can only return to me, and we wilt seek
other means for escape, if, indeed, there are any."
"I am to understand you do not flee with me?"
She shook her head gravely, her cheeks flushed, her dark eyes lowered.
"No; I deem such move not best after those words the Queen spoke to you
last night," she answered simply. "Besides, our best efforts at escape
would be futile should she suspect you have not perished where she
entombed you. I am safe here, for the present at least, while you can
accomplish much more for all of us if she believes you dead and takes
no precautions to guard against you."
I could scarcely bear the thought of her remaining in the power of that
half-savage creature, who wielded such despotic power over her wild
tribesmen. Inspired by fear of the result I begged reconsideration,
urging her to accompany me in flight; but she was firm in refusal.
"No; urge it no longer, good friend. I know you speak from the heart,
yet it is not best. You cannot know to what depths of peril, or
disappointment, this passage may lead, while, by remaining behind, I
can help to hide your trail, and possibly open to you some way of
retreat. But hush!" She held up her hand. "It is the Queen
returning; neither of us must be discovered here."
I took a step forward, gaining undisputed possession of the uplifted
palm.
"I depart at your wish, Madame," I said brokenly; "but may the merciful
God bring us to each other again."
For a breathless instant, even while the sounds without drew nearer,
her eyes looked confidingly into mine.
"All must be as God wills," she replied gravely. "Here or hereafter,
Geoffrey Benteen, I believe it shall be. Until then, continue to prove
the same true man you have ever been, doubting not the trust of her who
now bids you speed."
There were voices lightly conversing at the entrance, and I
distinguished clearly the senseless laughter of De Noyan. Lower I bent
above the white hand reposing in my rough grasp, until my lips pressed
the soft flesh; nor was it withdrawn from the caress.
"Good-bye, Eloise," I whispered, and, sweeping aside the heavy folds of
curtain, vanished from her sight.