Call up the spirit of the ocean, bid
Him raise the storm! The waves begin to heave,
To curl, to foam; the white surges run far
Upon the darkening waters, and mighty
Sounds of strife are heard. Wrapt in the midnight
Of the clouds, sits Terror, meditating
Woe. Her doubtful form appears and fades,
Like the shadow of Death, when he mingles
With the gloom of the sepulchre, and broods
In lonely silence. Her spirits are abroad!
They do her bidding! Hark, to that shriek!
The echoes of the shore have heard!
Ellena, meanwhile, when she had been carried from the chapel of San
Sebastian, was placed upon a horse in waiting, and, guarded by the
two men who had seized her, commenced a journey, which continued with
little interruption during two nights and days. She had no means of
judging whither she was going, and listened in vain expectation, for
the feet of horses, and the voice of Vivaldi, who, she had been told,
was following on the same road.
The steps of travellers seldom broke upon the silence of these regions,
and, during the journey, she was met only by some market-people
passing to a neighbouring town, or now and then by the vine-dressers
or labourers in the olive grounds; and she descended upon the vast
plains of Apulia, still ignorant of her situation. An encampment, not
of warriors, but of shepherds, who were leading their flocks to the
mountains of Abruzzo, enlivened a small tract of these levels, which
were shadowed on the north and east by the mountainous ridge of the
Garganus, stretching from the Apennine far into the Adriatic.
The appearance of the shepherds was nearly as wild and savage as that
of the men, who conducted Ellena; but their pastoral instruments of
flageolets and tabors spoke of more civilized feelings, as they sounded
sweetly over the desert. Her guards rested, and refreshed themselves
with goats milk, barley cakes, and almonds, and the manners of these
shepherds, like those she had formerly met with on the mountains,
proved to be more hospitable than their air had indicated.
After Ellena had quitted this pastoral camp, no vestige of a human
residence appeared for several leagues, except here and there the
towers of a decayed fortress, perched upon the lofty acclivities she
was approaching, and half concealed in the woods. The evening of the
second day was drawing on, when her guards drew near the forest, which
she had long observed in the distance, spreading over the many-rising
steeps of the Garganus. They entered by a track, a road it could not be
called, which led among oaks and gigantic chestnuts, apparently the
growth of centuries, and so thickly interwoven, that their branches
formed a canopy which seldom admitted the sky. The gloom which they
threw around, and the thickets of cystus, juniper, and lenticus, which
flourished beneath the shade, gave a character of fearful wildness to
the scene.
Having reached an eminence, where the trees were more thinly scattered,
Ellena perceived the forests spreading on all sides among hills and
vallies, and descending towards the Adriatic, which bounded the
distance in front. The coast, bending into a bay, was rocky and bold.
Lofty pinnacles, wooded to their summits, rose over the shores, and
cliffs of naked marble of such gigantic proportions, that they were
awful even at a distance, obtruded themselves far into the waves,
breasting their eternal fury. Beyond the margin of the coast, as far
as the eye could reach, appeared pointed mountains, darkened with
forests, rising ridge over ridge in many successions. Ellena, as she
surveyed this wild scenery, felt as if she was going into eternal
banishment from society. She was tranquil, but it was with the
quietness of exhausted grief, not of resignation; and she looked back
upon the past, and awaited the future, with a kind of out-breathed
despair.
She had travelled for some miles through the forest, her guards only
now and then uttering to each other a question, or an observation
concerning the changes which had taken place in the bordering scenery,
since they last passed it, when night began to close in upon them.
Ellena perceived her approach to the sea, only by the murmurs of its
surge upon the rocky coast, till, having reached an eminence, which
was, however, no more than the base of two woody mountains that towered
closely over it, she saw dimly it's gray surface spreading in the
bay below. She now ventured to ask how much further she was to go,
and whether she was to be taken on board one of the little vessels,
apparently fishing smacks, that she could just discern at anchor.
"You have not far to go now," replied one of the guards, surlily; "you
will soon be at the end of your journey, and at rest."
They descended to the shore, and presently came to a lonely dwelling,
which stood so near the margin of the sea, as almost to be washed by
the waves. No light appeared at any of the lattices; and, from the
silence that reigned within, it seemed to be uninhabited. The guard had
probably reason to know otherwise, for they halted at the door, and
shouted with all their strength. No voice, however, answered to their
call, and, while they persevered in efforts to rouse the inhabitants,
Ellena anxiously examined the building, as exactly as the twilight
would permit. It was of an ancient and peculiar structure, and, though
scarcely important enough for a mansion, had evidently never been
designed for the residence of peasants.
The walls, of unhewn marble, were high, and strengthened by bastions;
and the edifice had turretted corners, which, with the porch in
front, and the sloping roof, were falling fast into numerous symptoms
of decay. The whole building, with it's dark windows and soundless
avenues, had an air strikingly forlorn and solitary. A high wall
surrounded the small court in which it stood, and probably had once
served as a defence to the dwelling; but the gates, which should have
closed against intruders, could no longer perform their office; one
of the folds had dropped from it's fastenings, and lay on the ground
almost concealed in a deep bed of weeds, and, the other creaked on its
hinges to every blast, at each swing seeming ready to follow the fate
of it's companion.
The repeated calls of the guard, were, at length, answered by a rough
voice from within; when the door of the porch was lazily unbarred, and
opened by a man, whole visage was so misery-struck, that Ellena could
not look upon it with indifference, though wrapt in misery of her
own. The lamp he held threw a gleam athwart it, and shewed the gaunt
ferocity of famine, to which the shadow of his hollow eyes added a
terrific wildness. Ellena shrunk while she gazed. She had never before
seen villainy and suffering so strongly pictured on the same face,
and she observed him with a degree of thrilling curiosity, which for
a moment excluded from her mind all consciousness of the evils to be
apprehended from him.
It was evident that this house had not been built for his reception;
and she conjectured, that he was the servant of some cruel agent of the
Marchesa di Vivaldi.
From the porch, she followed into an old hall, ruinous, and destitute
of any kind of furniture. It was not extensive, but lofty, for it
seemed to ascend to the roof of the edifice, and the chambers above
opened around it into a corridor.
Some half-sullen salutations were exchanged between the guard and the
stranger, whom they called Spalatro, as they passed into a chamber,
where, it appeared that he had been sleeping on a mattress laid in a
corner. All the other furniture of the place, were two or three broken
chairs and a table. He eyed Ellena with a shrewd contracted brow,
and then looked significantly at the guard, but was silent, till he
desired them all to sit down, adding, that he would dress some fish
for supper. Ellena discovered that this man was the master of the
place; it appeared also that he was the only inhabitant; and, when
the guard soon after informed her their journey concluded here, her
worst apprehensions were confirmed. The efforts she made to sustain
her spirits, were no longer successful. It seemed that she was brought
hither by ruffians to a lonely house on the sea-shore, inhabited by a
man, who had "villain" engraved in every line of his face, to be the
victim of inexorable pride and an insatiable desire of revenge. After
considering these circumstances, and the words, which had just told
her, she was to go no further, conviction struck like lightning upon
her heart; and, believing she was brought hither to be assassinated,
horror chilled all her frame, and her senses forsook her.
On recovering, she sound herself surrounded by the guard and the
stranger, and she would have supplicated for their pity, but that she
feared to exasperate them by betraying her suspicions. She complained
of fatigue, and requested to be shewn to her room. The men looked upon
one another, hesitated, and then asked her to partake of the fish that
was preparing. But Ellena having declined the invitation with as good
a grace as she could assume, they consented that she should withdraw.
Spalatro, taking the lamp, lighted her across the hall, to the corridor
above, where he opened the door of a chamber, in which he said she was
to sleep.
"Where is my bed?" said the afflicted Ellena, fearfully as she looked
round.
"It is there--on the floor," replied Spalatro, pointing to a miserable
mattress, over which hung the tattered curtains of what had once been
a canopy. "If you want the lamp," he added, "I will leave it, and come
for it in a minute or two."
"Will you not let me have a lamp for the night?" she said in a
supplicating and timid voice.
"For the night!" said the man gruffly; "What! to set fire to the
house?"
Ellena still entreated that he would allow her the comfort of a light.
"Ay, ay," replied Spalatro, with a look she could not comprehend, "it
would be a great comfort to you, truly! You do not know what you ask."
"What is it that you mean?" said Ellena, eagerly; "I conjure you, in
the name of our holy church, to tell me!"
Spalatro stepped suddenly back, and looked upon her with surprise, but
without speaking.
"Have mercy on me!" said Ellena, greatly alarmed by his manner; "I am
friendless, and without help!"
"What do you fear?" said the man, recovering himself; and then, without
waiting her reply, added--"Is it such an unmerciful deed to take away a
lamp?"
Ellena, who again feared to betray the extent of her suspicions, only
replied, that it would be merciful to leave it, for that her spirits
were low, and she required light to cheer them in a new abode.
"We do not stand upon such conceits here," replied Spalatro, "we have
other matters to mind. Besides, it's the only lamp in the house, and
the company below are in darkness while I am losing time here. I will
leave it for two minutes, and no more." Ellena made a sign for him
to put down the lamp; and, when he left the room, she heard the door
barred upon her.
She employed these two minutes in examining the chamber, and the
possibility it might afford of an escape. It was a large apartment,
unfurnished and unswept of the cobwebs of many years. The only door she
discovered was the one, by which she had entered, and the only window
a lattice, which was grated. Such preparation for preventing escape
seemed to hint how much there might be to escape from.
Having examined the chamber, without finding a single circumstance to
encourage hope, tried the strength of the bars, which she could not
shake, and fought in vain for an inside fastening to her door, she
placed the lamp beside it, and awaited the return of Spalatro. In a
few moments he came, and offered her a cup of sour wine with a slice
of bread; which, being somewhat soothed by this attention, she did not
think proper to reject.
Spalatro then quitted the room, and the door was again barred. Left
once more alone, she tried to overcome apprehension by prayer; and
after offering up her vespers with a fervent heart, she became more
confiding and composed.
But it was impossible that she could so far forget the dangers of
her situation, as to seek sleep, however wearied she might be, while
the door of her room remained unsecured against the intrusion of
the ruffians below; and, as she had no means of fastening it, she
determined to watch during the whole night. Thus left to solitude and
darkness, she seated herself upon the mattress to await the return of
morning, and was soon lost in sad reflection; every minute occurrence
of the past day, and of the conduct of her guards, moved in review
before her judgment; and, combining these with the circumstances
of her present situation, scarcely a doubt as to the fate designed
for her remained. It seemed highly improbable, that the Marchesa di
Vivaldi had sent her hither merely for imprisonment, since she might
have confined her in a convent, with much less trouble; and still more
so, when Ellena considered the character of the Marchesa, such as she
had already experienced it. The appearance of this house, and of the
man who inhabited it, with the circumstance of no woman being found
residing here, each and all of these signified, that she was brought
hither, not for long imprisonment, but for death. Her utmost efforts
for fortitude or resignation could not overcome the cold tremblings,
the sickness of heart, the faintness and universal horror, that
assailed her. How often, with tears of mingled terror and grief, did
she call upon Vivaldi--Vivaldi, alas! far distant--to save her; how
often exclaim in agony, that she should never, never see him more!
She was spared, however, the horror of believing that he was an
inhabitant of the Inquisition. Having detected the imposition, which
had been practised towards herself, and that she was neither on the
way to the Holy Office, nor conducted by persons belonging to it,
she concluded, that the whole affair of Vivaldi's arrest, had been
planned by the Marchesa, merely as a pretence for confining him, till
she should be placed beyond the reach of his assistance. She hoped,
therefore, that he had only been sent to some private residence
belonging to his family, and that, when her fate was decided, he
would be released, and she be the only victim. This was the sole
consideration, that afforded any degree of assuagement to her
sufferings.
The people below sat till a late hour. She listened often to their
distant voices, as they were distinguishable in the pauses of the
surge, that broke loud and hollow on the shore; and every time the
creaking hinges of their room door moved, apprehended they were
coming to her. At length, it appeared they had left the apartment,
or had fallen asleep there, for a profound stilness reigned whenever
the murmur of the waves sunk. Doubt did not long deceive her, for,
while she yet listened, she distinguished footsteps ascending to the
corridor. She heard them approach her chamber, and stop at the door;
she heard, also, the low whisperings of their voices, as they seemed
consulting on what was to be done, and she scarcely ventured to draw
breath, while she intensely attended to them. Not a word, however,
distinctly reached her, till, as one of them was departing, another
called out in a half-whisper, "It is below on the table, in my girdle;
make haste." The man came back, and said something in a lower voice, to
which the other replied, "she sleeps," or Ellena was deceived by the
hissing consonants of some other words. He then descended the stairs;
and in a few minutes she perceived his comrade also pass away from the
door; she listened to his retreating steps, till the roaring of the sea
was alone heard in their stead.
Ellena's terrors were relieved only for a moment. Considering the
import of the words, it appeared that the man who had descended, was
gone for the stiletto of the other, such an instrument being usually
worn in the girdle, and from the assurance, "she sleeps," he seemed
to fear that his words had been overheard; and she listened again for
their steps; but they came no more.
Happily for Ellena's peace, she knew not that her chamber had a door,
so contrived as to open without sound, by which assassins might enter
unsuspectedly at any hour of the night. Believing that the inhabitants
of this house had now retired to rest, her hopes and her spirits began
to revive; but she was yet sleepless and watchful. She measured the
chamber with unequal steps, often starting as the old boards shook and
groaned where she passed; and often pausing to listen whether all was
yet still in the corridor. The gleam, which a rising moon threw between
the bars of her window, now began to shew many shadowy objects in the
chamber, which she did not recollect to have observed while the lamp
was there. More than once, she fancied she saw something glide along
towards the place where the mattress was laid, and, almost congealed
with terror, she stood still to watch it; but the illusion, if such it
was, disappeared where the moonlight faded, and even her fears could
not give shape to it beyond. Had she not known that her chamber-door
remained strongly barred, she would have believed this was an assassin
stealing to the bed where it might be supposed she slept. Even now the
thought occurred to her, and vague as it was, had power to strike an
anguish, almost deadly, through her heart, while she considered that
her immediate situation was nearly as perilous as the one she had
imaged. Again she listened, and scarcely dared to breathe; but not the
lightest sound occurred in the pauses of the waves, and she believed
herself convinced that no person except herself was in the room. That
she was deceived in this belief, appeared from her unwillingness to
approach the mattress, while it was yet involved in shade. Unable to
overcome her reluctance, she took her station at the window, till the
strengthening rays should allow a clearer view of the chamber, and in
some degree restore her confidence; and she watched the scene without
as it gradually became visible. The moon, rising over the ocean, shewed
it's restless surface spreading to the wide horizon; and the waves,
which broke in foam upon the rocky beach below, retiring in long white
lines far upon the waters. She listened to their measured and solemn
sound, and, somewhat soothed by the solitary grandeur of the view,
remained at the lattice till the moon had risen high into the heavens;
and even till morning began to dawn upon the sea, and purple the
eastern clouds.
Re-assured, by the light that now pervaded her room, she returned to
the mattress; where anxiety at length yielded to her weariness, and she
obtained a short repose.