"Put your hand on my shoulder, dearest," said Ferdinand; "and take heed to every step; for all are damp and slippery, and many of the stones decayed. Lean firmly upon me as I go down before you." She did as he told her; but as they descended amidst mould and slimy damp, and heavy air, the whispering voices he had heard again sounded on the ear, and Adelaide's heart beat, though she resisted terror to the utmost. "Fear not, dear girl--fear not," he said; "we shall soon be in the free air of the wood." She made no reply, but followed quickly, and at length they reached the door below. As he pushed it open, a voice seemed to say, "They come--they come. Hush, hush!" and he led her on into the serfs' burial-place. "There is a light," whispered Adelaide. "Good heavens! there must be some one here." "No one that will slay us," answered her lover. "It will soon be past, dear girl." As he spoke, however, he raised his eyes, and saw a faint light gleaming from the heavy column to which the skeleton-was chained; and as undaunted he advanced, he saw written on the green stone, as if in characters of flame, the word, "Vengeance!" and as he gazed, low voices repeated, "Vengeance--vengeance!" He felt his fair companion tremble terribly; but now she bent down her eyes, as he had bidden her, for she feared that her courage would give way. The next instant, however, she started and paused, for she had well nigh put her foot upon a skull, the grinning white teeth of which, and rayless eye-holes, were raised towards her. "Ah, Ferdinand!" she exclaimed; but he hurried her past, and on towards the crypt of the chapel. "Stay, stay," said Adelaide, as they passed through the low arch which led thither. "This is very terrible; I feel faint." "Yet a few steps farther," answered Ferdinand; "the free air will soon revive you, and we shall be there in a moment." As he spoke, there came suddenly, from the lower chapel vaults before them, a slow and solemn chant, as if several deep voices were singing a dirge, and Ferdinand and Adelaide paused and listened while they sang:-- DIRGE. Peace to the dead! They rest Calm in the silent bed. They have tasted joy and sorrow; They have lived and grieved, Have loved and been blest; Nor thought of this dark to-morrow. Peace to the happy dead! Peace to the dead! No more On them shall earth's changes shed The blight of all joy and pleasure. Their life is above, In the haven of love, And their heart is with its treasure. Peace to the happy dead! Though it was a sad and solemn air, and though the distinct words were of as serious a character as the lips of man can pronounce, yet they seemed rather to revive than to depress the spirits of Adelaide; and as the music ceased, and the falling sounds died away in the long aisles, she said,