University of Virginia Library

6. VI.

I naturally expected that Bruno, in a short time, would follow
upon my footsteps, and deep indeed was the solicitude with
which I waited for his coming. No words could convey to the understanding
of another the singular and oppressive feelings, doubts
and anxieties which had been awakened in my mind by the

strange and terrible scene which I had witnessed. The curious
relation in which the parties stood to each other — the calm assurance
and stubborn resolution which was shown by Bruno, in
defiance of one whom I had regarded only in the light of a mistress
equally without reproach or fear — her fury, which, as it
awakened no respect in him, was the sufficient proof of the weakness
and his power — his mysterious accusations, which I was
too young to comprehend and too inexperienced to trace; —and,
not least, the fearful threats to which every sentence which he
uttered tended — subdued all my strength, and made me weaker
in limb and in heart than the infant for the first time tottering
on uncertain footsteps. There was something, also, in the brief
space which he allowed the baroness — but the single night on
which she had already entered — for repentance before doom,
which fearfully increased the terrors with which my imagination
invested the whole fearful subject. And what could be the
judgment — what the penalty — for those crimes, of which, as
nothing was known to me, all seemed vast, dark, and overwhelming?
The more I strove to think, the more involved I
became in the meshes of my own wild-weaving fancies; and,
failing to fix upon any certain clue which might lead me to a
reasonable conclusion, I strove, at length, in headache and vexation,
to dismiss all thought from my mind, patiently awaiting the
approach of Bruno and the morning for the solution of my doubts
and conjectures. But Bruno and the morning promised to be
equally slow in their approaches. The stillness of death now
overspread the castle, and the buzzing of a solitary insect within
my chamber, acquired, in the tomb-like silence of the hour, a
strange and emphatic signification in my ear. Hopeless of Bruno's
immediate return — as nothing could be more natural than
the conclusion that his labors must be great that night in preparation
for those morning results of which he had spoken so confidently
— I determined to yield myself to slumber; and, without
undressing, I threw myself upon the massive and richly decorated
couch of my chamber. But I might as well have striven
for flight to the upper clouds, as to win the coy and mocking
sleep which I desired. My imagination was wrought up to an
almost feverish intensity. The breathing of the wind through
a crevice startled and distressed me, and in the very silence of
the scene and hour I felt a presence which stimulated my fancies
and increased my anxiety and dread. I no longer strove
for sleep. I rose and approached the little window, and looked
down upon the court. There the moonlight lay, spread out like
a garment, so soft, so spiritual, that thought naturally became
mysticism as I surveyed it, and the vague uncertainties of
the future crowded upon the arena of the present world. I
could fancy shadows — which were images rather than shadows
— which passed to and fro in the cold, thin, but hazy atmosphere;
that tossed their wild arms above their marble brows, as,
melting away in the distance, they gave place to wilder and pursuing
aspects. Sounds seemed, at length, to accompany these
movements, and that acute sense of the marvellous, which all
men possess in proportion to their cultivated and moral nature,
and which seems a quality of sight and hearing only — a thing
all eyes and ears — conjured syllables from the imperfect sounds,
and shrieks of pain from the vague murmurs which now really
reached my ears from a distance, and which, probably, were only
murmurs of the wind over the little lake that lay at the foot of
the castle. As this conviction stirred my mind, I remembered
the door to which the attention of Bruno had been drawn for a
moment while he was discussing the securities of my chamber.
I remembered that this door, as he described it, led to the terrace
which immediately overlooked the lake. The remembrance,
in my feverish state of mind, led me to desire to survey
this scene, and I approached the door, and had already begun to
undo the fastenings, which, by the way, I found far less firm
and secure than my friend had imagined. The inches of the
wall, into which the bar was dropped, were crumbling and decayed
to so great a degree, that the shoulder of a vigorous man,
from without, might, without much effort, have driven it from
the slight fragments which still held it in its place. Nor was
even this degree of violence necessary to effect an entrance.
From a further examination I discovered that the wall had been
tempered with — a fragment of the stone dislodged, though not
withdrawn, through the opening of which a hand from without
might readily lift the bar and obtain access. The cement having
been carefully scraped away, the stone was suffered to remain,
so nicely adjusted to the place, that it was only from one point
of view that I could discern a faint glimmer of the moonlight
through the aperture. The suspicions of Bruno, not to speak
of my own, received strong confirmation from this discovery;
and my apprehensions being naturally aroused, I now strove for
means to secure the door which I had been about to open. It
was apparent to me that I was now threatened with danger
from without. I looked about my chamber, and my eye rested
upon the massive table standing in the midst. I immediately
seized upon that, and placed it though with some difficulty,
against the door. While I meditated in what manner to increase
my defences, my ear, which had acquired all the keen
sensibilities of an Indian scout on the edge of an enemy's
encampment, detected a light buzzing sound, which drew my
attention to the terrace. But I had scarcely stopped to the aperture,
when a scream — a torrent of screams — rang so suddenly
on the late silent atmosphere, that I was staggered, almost
stunned, as if a thunderbolt had on the instant fallen at my feet
in the deep stillness of the unbroken forests. The sounds came
from the terrace; and as soon as I could recover from the enfeebling
effect of my first surprise, hearing the screams still
repeated as wildly as ever, I obeyed the natural impulse of my
feelings, and prepared to rush out to the scene of clamor. I
dashed the table from the door, against which I had taken such
pains to bear it, and tearing the slight fastenings away which
otherwise secured the entrance, I threw it open and darted out
upon the scene. The object that met my eyes, that instant, fastened
my feet. There stood the baroness, about twenty steps from
me, and at nearly the same distance from a door in the opposite
wall, which was open, and from which she had evidently
emerged. Behind her stood a negress — a dwarf — the blackest,
strangest and most hideous-looking animal I had ever in
my life beheld. The baroness had been approaching my
apartment — her face was toward me, but her eyes were turned
— nay, fixed and frozen, it would seem, as if in the contemplation
of some object upon the parapet which overlooked the lake.
Her attitude exhibited the intense and strained action of insanity.
One hand — the left — was uplifted, and averted, as if
to hide her eyes from the object which they yet resolutely
strained to see. In the other hand, glistening in the moonlight,
was a poinard, bared and borne aloft, as if designed for immediate
service. I shuddered with an uncontrollable emotion of
sickness — heart-sickness — as I associated the dialogue to which
I had listened, with this instrument of death. But, though her
progress had evidently been toward my chamber, her eyes were
not now given to me. Her thoughts — if thought she had —
were all elsewhere. Her fancies were hurrying her to other
worlds, and scenes, and objects, visible to no senses but her
own. Wildly she pointed to the parapet overlooking the lake,
and gazed and spoke — a speech whose every accent was a
scream of agony — as if still in sight lay some object of hate
and fear, which she vainly struggled not to see.

“There — there — will it never sink — will it never die — will
those hideous eyes never turn away! Down, down! — Thrust
it down when I command ye — the rock is heavy in its garments
— the lake is deep, deep, and still and silent — down with it,
slave — for ever from my sight! Or, if ye tremble, set me free
and I will do it — I have no fears — none! none!”

Thus, fixed and terrible, ghastly and staring wild, with idiot
frenzy, she stood gazing and intent upon the fancied object in
her sight — immovable, seemingly, as a statue, and conscious of
nothing beside. I lost my fears in the contemplation of hers,
and approached her, though hardly with any distinct purpose.
She seemed not to notice my approach — not even when the negress
who followed in her train rushed to her at my appearance
and strove, with an excitement of manner only less than her own,
to direct her attention upon me. But the wretched one turned
not once aside at the interruption. Her eyes took but the one
direction, and could not be averted; and her incoherent language
was poured forth in rapid, though inconsecutive syllables, to the
object of her mind's vision, which so effectually froze to darkness
all her capacities of sight. Never did I behold — never could I
have fancied or believed a spectacle so wild and fearful. Imagine
for yourself a woman, once eminently beautiful — of a dark
and mysterious beauty — tall in form — majestic in carriage — in
little more than the prime of life — wearing the dignity of age,
yet, in every look, movement, feature, and gesture, exhibiting
the impulsive force and passionate energy of youth; — her person
bending forward — her eyes straining as if to burst from the

burning sockets — her lips slightly parted, but with the teeth
gnashing at occasional intervals with a spasmodic motion — her
hair, once richly black and voluminously massive, touched with
the gray that certainly ensues from the premature storms of a
winter of the soul, escaping from all confinement, and streaming
over her cheeks and neck — the veins of her neck and forehead
swelling into thick ridges and cording the features with a tension
that amply denoted the difficulty of maintaining any such restraint
upon them! — Imagine such a woman! — the ferocity of the
demon glaring from her eye, in connection with the strangest
expression of terror which that organ ever wore — the raised
dagger in her hand — her hand uplifted — her foot advanced —
and so frozen! — so fixed in the rigidity of marble! — the image
above the sepulchre! — no unfitting emblem of the dread and enduring
marriage, which nothing can ever set asunder, between
unrepented Guilt, and unforgiving Death!

I was nearly maddened even to behold this spectacle, and it
was a relief to me, when, with a no less terrible and terrifying
energy she shook off the torpor which stifled life in all its wonted
forms of expression, and renewed those fearful tones of memory
and crime, which, though revealing nothing, amply testified
to a long narrative equal of shame, and sin, and suffering.

“There! there!” she exclaimed, still addressing herself to
some imaginary object which seemed to rest or to rise before her
upon the parapet which overhung the lake —“There again! —
its hands — its little hands — will nothing keep them down!
They rise through the water — they implore — but no! no! It
were a mistaken mercy now to save! — let me not look — let me
not see — will you not fling it over — the lake is deep — the rock
is heavy in its little garments — it will soon sink from sight for
ever, and then — then I shall be safe. Ha! it goes — it goes at
last! — Do you not hear the plunge! — the water gurgles in its
nostrils — closes over it, and — God spare me, what a piercing
shriek — Another! another! — Keep me not back — I will look
if it be gone! — No! no! its little face smiles upon me through
the white water!”

And this was followed by a shriek, piercing like that which
she described, which penetrated to the very marrow of my bones.
With the cry she bounded toward the parapet, looked wildly

down into the lake at the foot of the castle, then recoiled with a
scream to which every previous cry from her lips was feeble
and inexpressive. The climax of her frenzy had been reached.
I was just in time to save her. She fell backward and I received
her in my arms. The shock seemed to bring her back
to a more human consciousness. Her eyes were turned upon
my own; a new intelligence seemed to rekindle them with
their former expression of hate — her hand vainly strove to use
the dagger against my person. In the effort, it fell nerveless at
her side, while a sudden discharge from the mouth and nostrils
drenched my garments with her blood.