France -- History -- Francis I, 1515-1547 -- Fiction
"Have no fear, Ascanio, for I am watching over you and Colombe," his
confidence in the master was so great that, relying upon that promise
alone, he would have waited without anxiety for the prison doors to be
thrown open, sure that thrown open they would be, in spite of bars and
locks.
But he had not seen Benvenuto, and Benvenuto did not know that his
cherished pupil, the son of his Stefana, was a prisoner. It would have
taken a whole day to carry the intelligence to him at Fontainebleau,
assuming that it had occurred to any one to do it, another day to return
to Paris, and in two days the enemies of the lovers might gain a long
lead upon their defender.
So it was that Ascanio passed the rest of the day and the whole of the
night following his arrest without sleep, sometimes pacing back and
forth in his cell, sometimes sitting down, and occasionally throwing
himself upon the bed, which was provided with white sheets,--a special
mark of favor which proved that Ascanio had been particularly commended
to the attention of the authorities. During that day and night and the
following morning nothing worthy of note occurred, unless it was the
regular visit of the jailer to bring his food.
About two o'clock in the afternoon, as nearly as the prisoner could
judge by his reckoning of the time, he thought that he heard voices near
at hand: it was a dull, indistinct murmur, but evidently caused by the
vocal organs of human beings. Ascanio listened and walked toward the
point whence the sound seemed to come; it was at one of the corners of
his cell. He silently put his ear to the wall and to the ground, and
found that the voices apparently came from beneath the floor.
It was evident that he had neighbors who were separated from him only by
a thin partition or an equally thin floor. After some two hours the
sounds ceased, and all was still once more.
Toward night the noise began again, but this time it was of a different
nature. It was not that which would be made by two persons speaking
together, but consisted of dull, hurried blows as of some one cutting
stone. It came from the same place, did not cease for a second, and
seemed to come nearer and nearer.
Absorbed as Ascanio was in his own thoughts, this noise seemed to him
deserving of some attention none the less, so he sat with his eyes glued
to the spot whence it came. He judged that it must be near midnight, but
he did not once think of sleeping, notwithstanding that he had not slept
for so many hours.
The noise continued: as it was long past the usual hour for work, it was
evidently some prisoner seeking to escape. Ascanio smiled sadly at the
thought that the poor devil, who would think for a moment, mayhap, that
he was at liberty, would find that he had simply changed his cell.
At last the noise approached so near that Ascanio ran and seized his
lamp, and returned with it to the corner; almost at the same moment the
earth rose up in that spot, and as it fell away disclosed a human head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account