“Hush, hush! here comes a man climbing down a ladder.”
* * * * *
“Oh, yes; he is a spy.”
“Heaven could grant me no greater favor than to let me offer
you--my life. I am yours; but tell me, for mercy’s sake, to whom
does this army belong?”
“To a count from Barcelona.”
“What count?”
* * * * *
“What is it?”
“General, one of the enemy’s spies.”
“Whence come you?”
“I came here, little dreaming what I should find; little thinking
what I should see.”--LOPE DE VEGA: _La Fuerza Lastimosa_.
There is something desolate and forbidding in the aspect of a bare, flat
region when the sun has set, when one is alone; when, as he walks, he
tramples the dry grass beneath his feet, the dead brown leaves drop
rustling from the trees, he hears the monotonous cry of the cricket,
and sees huge, shapeless clouds sink slowly on the horizon like dead
ghosts.
Such were Ordener’s gloomy reflections on the night of his vain
encounter with the Iceland robber. Startled by his abrupt disappearance,
he at first tried to pursue him; but he lost his way in the heather, and
wandered all day through a wild and uncultivated country, where he found
no trace of man. At nightfall he was in a vast plain stretching to the
horizon on every side, where there seemed no hope of shelter for the
young traveller exhausted by fatigue and hunger.
It would have been a slight relief if his bodily suffering had not been
aggravated by mental distress; but all was over. He had reached his
journey’s end without accomplishing his purpose. He could not even
cherish those foolish illusions of hope which had urged him to pursue
the monster; and now that nothing was left to sustain his courage,
countless discouraging thoughts, for which he had hitherto had no room,
assailed him. What could he do? How could he return to Schumacker unless
he could take with him Ethel’s salvation? What was the frightful nature
of the misfortune which the possession of the fatal casket would
prevent, and what of his marriage to Ulrica d’Ahlefeld? If he could only
free his Ethel from her undeserved captivity; if he could fly with her,
and enjoy uninterrupted happiness in some distant exile!
He wrapped himself in his mantle, and threw himself upon the ground. The
sky was dark; a tempestuous light ever and anon appeared in the clouds
as if through a veil of crape and then vanished; a cold wind swept
across the plain. The young man scarcely heeded these signs of an
immediate and violent storm; and besides, even could he have found
shelter from the tempest and a place to rest from his fatigues, could he
have found a spot where he might avoid his misery or rest from thought?
All at once confused sounds of men’s voices fell upon his ear. In
surprise, he rose upon his elbow, and perceived at some distance a
number of shadowy forms moving through the darkness. He looked again; a
light shone in the midst of the mysterious group, and Ordener, with
astonishment which may easily be imagined, saw the weird forms sink one
after the other into the centre of the earth, until all had disappeared.
Ordener was above the superstitions of his age and country. His serious
and mature mind knew none of those vain beliefs, those strange terrors,
which torture the childhood of a race as well as the childhood of a man.
And yet there was something supernatural about this singular vision
which filled him with devout distrust against his better judgment; for
who can tell whether the spirits of the dead may not sometimes return to
earth?
He rose, made the sign of the cross, and walked toward the spot where
the apparition vanished.
Big drops of rain now began to fall; his cloak filled like a sail, and
the feather in his cap, beaten by the wind, flapped in his face.
He stopped suddenly. A flash of lightning revealed just at his feet a
large, round well, into which he must inevitably have fallen headlong
had it not have been for this friendly warning. He approached the abyss.
A faint light was visible at a fearful depth, and cast a red glow over
the bottom of this huge opening in the bowels of the earth. The light,
which seemed like a magic fire kindled by elves, only increased the
immeasurable darkness which the eye was forced to pierce before reaching
it.
The dauntless youth leaned over the abyss and listened. A distant murmur
of voices rose to his ear. He no longer doubted that the beings who had
so strangely appeared and disappeared before his very eyes had plunged
into this gulf, and he felt an unconquerable desire, doubtless because
it was so fated, to follow them, even should he pursue spectres to the
mouth of hell. Moreover, the tempest now burst with fury, and this hole
would afford him a shelter; but how was he to descend? What road had
those he longed to follow taken, if indeed they were not phantoms? A
second flash came to his aid, and showed him at his feet a ladder
leading into the depths of the well. It consisted of a strong upright
beam, crossed at regular intervals by short iron bars for the hands and
feet of those who might venture into the gulf below.
Ordener did not hesitate. He swung himself boldly down upon the dreadful
ladder, and plunged into the abyss without knowing whether it reached
the bottom or not,--without reflecting that he might never again see the
sun. Soon he could only distinguish the sky from the darkness overhead
by the bluish flashes which lit it up at brief intervals; soon the rain
pouring in torrents upon the surface of the earth, reached him merely as
a fine, vaporous mist. Then the whirlwind, rushing violently into the
well, was lost above him in a prolonged moan. He went down and down, and
yet seemed scarcely nearer to the subterranean light. He went on without
losing heart, never looking below lest he should become dizzy and fall.
However, the air becoming more and more stifling, the sound of voices
more and more distinct, and the purplish glow which began to tinge the
walls of the pit, warned him that he was not far from the bottom. He
descended a few more rounds, and saw plainly at the foot of the ladder
the entrance to an underground passage lighted by a flickering red
flame, while his ear caught words which won his entire attention.
“Kennybol does not come,” said an impatient voice.
“What can detain him?” repeated the same voice, after a brief pause.
“No one knows, Mr. Hacket,” was the reply.
“He intended to spend the night with his sister, Maase Braal, in the
village of Surb,” added a different voice.
“You see,” rejoined the first speaker, “I keep my promises. I agreed to
bring Hans of Iceland for your leader. I have brought him.”
An indistinct murmur followed these words. Ordener’s curiosity, already
aroused by the name of Kennybol, who had so astonished him the night
before, was redoubled at the name of Hans of Iceland.