In this situation he remained for a considerable time, ruminating on
the means of escape, yet scarcely believing escape was possible. If he
continued in the vault, he might continue there only to be butchered;
but by attempting to rescue himself from the place he was now in, he
must rush into the hands of the banditti. Judging it, therefore, the
safer way of the two to remain where he was, he endeavoured to await
his fate with fortitude, when suddenly the loud voices of the
murderers burst upon his ear, and he heard steps advancing quickly
towards the spot where he lay.
Despair instantly renewed his vigour; he started from the ground, and
throwing round him a look of eager desperation, his eye caught the
glimpse of a small door, upon which the moon-beam now fell. He made
towards it, and passed it just as the light of a torch gleamed upon
the walls of the vault.
He groped his way along a winding passage, and at length came to a
flight of steps. Notwithstanding the darkness, he reached the bottom
in safety.
He now for the first time stopped to listen--the sounds of pursuit
were ceased, and all was silent! Continuing to wander on in effectual
endeavours to escape, his hands at length touched cold iron, and he
quickly perceived it belonged to a door. The door, however, was
fastened, and resisted all his efforts to open it. He was giving up
the attempt in despair, when a loud scream from within, followed by a
dead and heavy noise, roused all his attention. Silence ensued. He
listened for a considerable time at the door, his imagination filled
with images of horror, and expecting to hear the sound repeated. He
then sought for a decayed part of the door, through which he might
discover what was beyond; but he could find none; and after waiting
some time without hearing any farther noise, he was quitting the spot,
when in passing his arm over the door, it struck against something
hard. On examination he perceived, to his extreme surprize, that the
key was in the lock. For a moment he hesitated what to do; but
curiosity overcame other considerations, and with a trembling hand he
turned the key. The door opened into a large and desolate apartment,
dimly lighted by a lamp that stood on a table, which was almost the
only furniture of the place. The Count had advanced several steps
before he perceived an object, which fixed all his attention. This was
the figure of a young woman lying on the floor apparently dead. Her
face was concealed in her robe; and the long auburn tresses which fell
in beautiful luxuriance over her bosom, served to veil a part of the
glowing beauty which the disorder of her dress would have revealed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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