THE VAULT.
Stunned by his horrible fall, Rodolph lay senseless and motionless at
the bottom of the stairs, down which he had been hurled. The
Schoolmaster, dragging him to the entrance of a second and still deeper
cavern, thrust him into its hideous recesses, and closing and securely
bolting a massy iron-shod door, returned to his worthy confederate, the
Chouette, who was waiting to join him in the proposed robbery (it might
be murder) in the Allée des Veuves.
About the end of an hour Rodolph began, though slowly, to resume his
consciousness. He found himself extended on the ground, in the midst of
thick darkness; he extended his hand and touched the stone stairs
descending to the vault; a sensation of extreme cold about his feet
induced him to endeavour, by feeling the ground, to ascertain the cause:
his fingers dabbled in a pool of water.
With a violent effort he contrived to seat himself on the lower step of
the staircase; the giddiness arising from his fall subsided by degrees,
and as he became able to extend his limbs he found, to his great joy,
that, though severely shaken and contused, no bones were broken. He
listened: the only sound that reached his ear was a low, dull,
pattering, but continued noise, of which he was then far from divining
the cause.
As his senses became more clear, so did the circumstances, to which he
had been the unfortunate victim, return to his imagination; and just as
he had recalled each particular, and was deeply considering the possible
result of the whole, he became aware that his feet were wholly submerged
in water; it had, indeed, risen above his ankle.
In the midst of the heavy gloom and deep silence which surrounded him,
he heard still the same dull, trickling sound he had observed before;
and now the matter was clear to him. Now, indeed, he comprehended all
the horrors of his situation: the cave was filling with water, arising
from the fearful and formidable overflowing of the Seine,--the dungeon
in which he had been thrown was doubtless beneath the level of the
river, and was chosen by his gaolers for that purpose, as offering a
slow though certain means of destruction.
The conviction of his danger recalled Rodolph entirely to himself. Quick
as lightning he made his way up the damp, slippery stairs; arrived at
the top, he came in contact with a thick door; he tried in vain to open
it,--its massy hinges resisted his most vigorous efforts to force them.
At this moment of despair and danger, his first thought was for Murphy.
"If he be not on his guard, those monsters will murder him!" cried he.
"It will be I who shall have caused his death,--my good, my faithful
Murphy!" This cruel thought nerved the arm of Rodolph with fresh vigour,
and again he bent his most powerful energy to endeavour to force the
ponderous door. Alas! the thickly plated iron with which it was covered
mocked his utmost efforts; and sore, weary, and exhausted, he was
compelled to relinquish the fruitless task. Again he descended into the
cave, in hopes of obtaining something which might serve as a lever to
force the hinges or wrench the fastenings. Groping against the slimy
walls, he felt himself continually treading on some sort of round
elastic bodies, which appeared to slip from under his feet, and to
scramble for safety past him. They were rats, driven by the fast-rising
water from their retreats. Groping about the place on all fours, with
the water half way up his leg, Rodolph felt in all directions for the
weapon he so much desired to find; nothing but the damp walls met his
touch, however, and, in utter despair, he resumed his position at the
top of the steps,--of the thirteen stairs which composed the flight,
three were already under water.
Thirteen had ever been Rodolph's unlucky number. There are moments when
the strongest minds are under the influence of superstitious ideas, and,
at this juncture, Rodolph viewed the fatal amount of stairs as an ill
augury. Again the possible fate of Murphy recurred to him, and, as if
inspired by a fresh hope, he eagerly felt around the door to discover
some slight chink, or opening, by which his cries for help might be
heard. In vain; the dampness of the soil had swollen the wood, and
joined it hermetically to the wet, slimy earth.
Rodolph next tried the powers of his voice, and shouted with the fullest
expansion of his lungs, trusting that his cries for assistance might
reach the adjoining cabaret; and then, tired and exhausted, sat down to
listen. Nothing was to be heard, no sound disturbed the deep silence
which reigned, but the drop, drop, drop, the dull, trickling, monotonous
bubbling of the fast-increasing waters.
His last hope extinguished, Rodolph seated himself in gloomy despair,
and, leaning his back against the door, bewailed the perilous situation
of his faithful friend,--perhaps at that very moment struggling beneath
the assassin's knife. Bitterly did he then regret his rash and
venturesome projects, however good and generous the motives by which he
had been instigated; and severely did he reproach himself for having
taken advantage of the devotion of Murphy, who, rich, honoured, and
esteemed by all who knew him, had quitted a beloved wife and child, to
assist Rodolph in the bold undertaking he had imposed on himself.
During these sorrowful reflections, the water was still rising rapidly,
and five steps only now remained dry. Rodolph now found himself
compelled to assume a standing position, though, in so doing, his
forehead was brought in close contact with the very top of the vault. He
calculated the probable duration of his mortal agony,--of the period
which must elapse ere this slow, inch-like death would put a period to
his misery; he bethought him of the pistol he carried with him, and, at
the risk of injuring himself in the attempt, he determined to fire it
off against the door, so as to disturb some of the fastenings by the
concussion; but here, again, a disappointment awaited him,--the pistol
was nowhere to be found, and he could but conclude it had fallen from
his pocket during his struggle with the Schoolmaster. But for his deep
concern on Murphy's account, Rodolph would have met his death
unmoved,--his conscience acquitted him of all intentional offence; nay,
it solaced him with the recollection of good actually performed, and
much more meditated. To the decrees of an all-wise and inscrutable
Providence he resigned himself, and humbly accepted his present
punishment as the just reward for a criminal action as yet unexpiated.
A fresh trial of his fortitude awaited him. The rats, still pursued by
the fast-gathering waters, finding no other means of escape, sought
refuge from one step to another, ascending as fast as the rising flood
rendered their position untenable; unable to scale the perpendicular
walls or doors, they availed themselves of the vestments of Rodolph,
whose horror and disgust rose to an indescribable degree, as he felt
their cold, clammy paws, and wet, hairy bodies, crawling or clinging to
him; in his attempts to repulse them, their sharp, cold bite inflicted
on him a most acute agony, while his face and hands streamed with blood,
from the multitude of wounds received. Again he called for help, shouted
aloud, and almost screamed in his pain and wretchedness. Alas! the dull
echo of the vault and the gurgling waters alone replied. A few short
moments, and he would be bereft even of the power of calling upon God or
man to help him; the rapidly rising flood had now reached his very
throat, and ere long would have ascended to his lips.
The choked air began, too, to fail in the narrow space now left it, and
the first symptoms of asphyxia began to oppress Rodolph; the arteries of
his temples beat violently, his head became giddy, and the faint
sickness of death seemed to make his chest heave convulsively. Already
were the waters gurgling in his ears; a dizziness of sight and a
confusion of ideas had well-nigh deprived him of all powers of sight or
sound; the last glimmer of reason was well-nigh shaken from her throne,
when hasty steps and the sound of voices on the other side of the door
were heard.
Hope recalled his expiring strength, and, making one powerful effort,
Rodolph was able to distinguish the following words, after which all
consciousness forsook him:
"Did I not tell you so? There, you see there is no one here!"
"Deuce take it! no more there is," replied the voice of the Chourineur,
in a tone of vexation and disappointment. And the sounds died away.
Rodolph, utterly exhausted, had no longer power to sustain himself; his
limbs sunk from under him, and he slid unresistingly down the stone
steps.
All at once the door of the vault was abruptly opened from the other
side, and the swelling masses contained in the inner vault, glad to find
a further outlet, rushed onwards as though bursting through the gates of
a sluice, and the Chourineur, whose opportune return shall be accounted
for by and by, seized the two arms of Rodolph, who, half dead, had
mechanically clung to the threshold of the door, and bore him from the
black and rushing waters which had nigh proved his grave.