He advanced softly to the window, and beheld in a small room, which
was less decayed than the rest of the edifice, a group of men, who,
from the savageness of their looks, and from their dress, appeared to
be banditti. They surrounded a man who lay on the ground wounded, and
bathed in blood, and who it was very evident had uttered the groans
heard by the count.
The obscurity of the place prevented Hippolitus from distinguishing
the features of the dying man. From the blood which covered him, and
from the surrounding circumstances, he appeared to be murdered; and
the count had no doubt that the men he beheld were the murderers. The
horror of the scene entirely overcame him; he stood rooted to the
spot, and saw the assassins rifle the pockets of the dying person,
who, in a voice scarcely articulate, but which despair seemed to aid,
supplicated for mercy. The ruffians answered him only with
execrations, and continued their plunder. His groans and his
sufferings served only to aggravate their cruelty. They were
proceeding to take from him a miniature picture, which was fastened
round his neck, and had been hitherto concealed in his bosom; when by
a sudden effort he half raised himself from the ground, and attempted
to save it from their hands. The effort availed him nothing; a blow
from one of the villains laid the unfortunate man on the floor without
motion. The horrid barbarity of the act seized the mind of Hippolitus
so entirely, that, forgetful of his own situation, he groaned aloud,
and started with an instantaneous design of avenging the deed. The
noise he made alarmed the banditti, who looking whence it came,
discovered the count through the casement. They instantly quitted
their prize, and rushed towards the door of the room. He was now
returned to a sense of his danger, and endeavoured to escape to the
exterior part of the ruin; but terror bewildered his senses, and he
mistook his way. Instead of regaining the arch-way, he perplexed
himself with fruitless wanderings, and at length found himself only
more deeply involved in the secret recesses of the pile.
The steps of his pursuers gained fast upon him, and he continued to
perplex himself with vain efforts at escape, till at length, quite
exhausted, he sunk on the ground, and endeavoured to resign himself to
his fate. He listened with a kind of stern despair, and was surprised
to find all silent. On looking round, he perceived by a ray of
moonlight, which streamed through a part of the ruin from above, that
he was in a sort of vault, which, from the small means he had of
judging, he thought was extensive.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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