He gradually recovered. The priest signed to Antonia to rise, and I
took her place on the bed; he placed her hand in that of Adderfang, who
looked steadily and consciously at him, but he could not speak. The
service proceeded, the gusts without increasing, and the rain lashing
to a degree that almost drowned the old man's voice. Adderfang being
unable to repeat the responses, merely acknowledged them by an
inclination of his head, and a silent movement of his lips; at length,
when it was asked of him, "Do you take this woman to be your wife?" he
made an effort, and replied distinctly, "Yes."
Ha! what is that? A flash of lightning--a piercing shriek echoed
through the room, loud above the rolling thunder--and then a convulsive
giggle--something fell heavily on the floor--the wind howled, the
lights were blown out--"Ave Maria purissima--sancta madre--soy
ciega--soy ciega!" (Holy Mother of God, I am struck blind--I am struck
blind!) The unfortunate girl had, indeed, been struck by the electric
fluid, and was now writhing sightless on the floor: we endeavoured to
remove her, but she had got her arms twined round the foot of the bed,
and resisted all our efforts. "Dexa me morir cerca mi querido--ah
Dios! dexa me morir aqui." Lights were immediately procured, and the
shutters closed; and there lay Adderfang, apparently quite sensible,
but now glaring round him, like a dying tiger. I never can forget the
bitter smile that played on his haggard features, like the lurid glare
of a stormy sunset. I turned away and shuddered, but curiosity
compelled me to look at him again. He shook his head, as his eye
caught mine, and pointed upward, as if he had said, "You see the very
heavens league against me." He then signed for some cordial that stood
on the table: having drank it, it revived him for a minute almost
miraculously. He again shed a flood of tears, and, sobbing audibly,
clasped his hands on his bosom and prayed aloud. Yes, the assassin,
the libertine, the selfish, cold-hearted seducer, for a short minute
bent meekly as a child before the storm of his sufferings!
"Oh, Almighty God, whose laws I have so fearfully contemned, hear my
prayers for her--hear the prayers of one _who dare not pray for
himself_!"
A low, growling thunderclap had gradually rolled on from a distance as
he proceeded; but when he got this length, it roared overhead in a
series of loud reports, as if a seventy-four had fired her broadside
close to us, shaking the dust from the roof and walls of the room, and
making the whole prison tremble, as at the upheaving of an earthquake.
He ceased--when the noise gradually grumbled itself to rest in the
distance, and again nothing but the howling of the tempest without was
heard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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